Mills & Boon Showcase

The Summer They Never Forgot

Kandy Shepherd

Resisting Her Ex’s Touch

Amber McKenzie

The Return of Mrs Jones

Jessica Gilmore

Confessions of a Bad Bridesmaid

Jennifer Rae

Resisting Her Rebel Hero

Lucy Ryder

Holiday with a Stranger

Christy McKellen

Changed by His Son’s Smile

Robin Gianna

Unlocking the Doctor’s Heart

Susanne Hampton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Summer They Never Forgot

Kandy Shepherd

When Ben lifted his head from the wave and saw Sandy standing on the beach it was as if the past and the present had coalesced into one shining moment. A joy so unexpected it was painful flooded his heart.

So here he was, against all resolutions, kissing her.

Her lips were warm and pliant beneath his; her body pressed to his chest. Her eyes, startled at first, had filled with an expression of bliss.

He shouldn’t be kissing her. Starting things he could not finish. Risking pain for both of them. But those thoughts were lost in the wonder of having her close to him again.

It was as if the twelve years between kisses had never happened.

KANDY SHEPHERD swapped a fast-paced career as a magazine editor for a life writing romance. She lives on a small farm in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia, with her husband, daughter, and a menagerie of animal friends. Kandy believes in love at first sight and real-life romance—they worked for her!

Kandy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her website at: www.kandyshepherd.com.

This is Kandy Shepherd’s first book for Mills & Boon® Cherish™ and is available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

ON SANDY ADAMS’S thirtieth birthday—which was also the day the man she’d lived with for two years was getting married to another woman—she decided to run away.

No. Not run away. Find a new perspective.

Yes, that sounded good. Positive. Affirming. Challenging.

No way would she give even a second’s thought to any more heartbreak.

She’d taken the first step by driving the heck out of Sydney and heading south—her ultimate destination: Melbourne, a thousand kilometres away. On a whim, she’d chosen to take the slower, scenic route to Melbourne on the old Princes Highway. There was time, and it went through areas she thought were among the most beautiful in the state of New South Wales.

Alone and loving it, she repeated to herself as she drove.

Say it enough times and she might even start to believe it.

Somewhere between the seaside town of Kiama and the quaint village of Berry, with home two hours behind her, she pulled her lime-green Beetle off onto a safe lay-by. But she only allowed herself a moment to stretch out her cramped muscles and admire the rolling green hills and breathtaking blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean before she got back in the car. The February heat made it too hot to stay outside for too long.

From her handbag she pulled out her new notebook, a birthday present from her five-year-old niece. There was a pink fairy on the cover and the glitter from its wings had already shed all through Sandy’s bag. It came with a shocking-pink pen. She nibbled on the pen for a long moment.

Then, with a flourish, she headed up the page ‘Thirtieth Birthday Resolutions’ and started to scribble in pink ink.

1. Get as far away from Sydney as possible while remaining in realms of civilisation and within reach of a good latte.

2. Find new job where can be own boss.

She underscored the words ‘own boss’ three times, so hard she nearly tore the paper.

3. Find kind, interesting man with no hang-ups who loves me the way I am and who wants to get married and have lots of kids.

She crossed out ‘lots of kids’ and wrote instead ‘three kids’—then added, ‘two girls and a boy’. When it came to writing down goals there was no harm in being specific. So she also added, ‘Man who in no way resembles That-Jerk-Jason’.

She went over the word ‘jerk’ twice and finished with the date and an extravagant flourish. Done.

She liked making lists. She felt they gave her some degree of control over a life that had gone unexpectedly pear-shaped. But three goals were probably all she could cope with right now. The resolutions could be revisited once she’d got to her destination.

She put the notebook back into her bag and slid the car back onto the highway.

An hour or so later farmland had made way for bushland and the sides of the road were lined with eucalypt forest. Her shoulders ached from driving and thoughts of a break for something to eat were at the front of her mind. When she saw the signpost to Dolphin Bay it took only a second for her to decide to throw the car into a left turn.

It was a purely reflex action. She’d planned to stop at one of the beachside towns along the way for lunch and a swim. But she hadn’t given sleepy Dolphin Bay a thought for years. She’d adored the south coast when she was a kid—had spent two idyllic summer holidays at different resort towns with her family, revelling in the freedom of being let off the leash of the rigorous study schedule her father had set her during the school year. But one summer the family had stayed in Dolphin Bay for the first time and everything had changed.

At the age of eighteen, she’d fallen in love with Ben. Tall, blond, surfer dude Ben, with the lazy smile and the muscles to die for. He’d been exciting, forbidden and fun. At the same time he’d been a real friend: supportive, encouraging—all the things she’d never dreamed a boy could be.

Then there’d been the kisses. The passionate, exciting, first-love kisses that had surprised her for years afterwards by sneaking into her dreams.

Sandy took her foot off the accelerator pedal and prepared to brake and turn back. She’d closed the door on so many of the bittersweet memories of that summer. Was it wise to nudge it open again by even a fraction?

But how could it hurt to drop in to Dolphin Bay for lunch? It was her birthday, after all, and she couldn’t remember the last proper meal she’d eaten. She might even book into Morgan’s Guesthouse and stay the night.

She put her foot back to the accelerator, too excited at the thought of seeing Dolphin Bay again to delay any further.

As she cruised into the main street that ran between the rows of shops and the waterfront, excitement melted down in a cold rush of disappointment. She’d made a big mistake. The classic mistake of expecting things to stay the same. She hadn’t been to Dolphin Bay for twelve years. And now she scarcely recognised it.

Determined not to give in to any kind of let-down feelings, she parked not far from the wasn’t-there-last-time information kiosk, got out, locked the car and walked around, trying to orientate herself.

The southern end of the bay was enclosed by old-fashioned rock sea walls to form a small, safe harbour. It seemed much the same, with a mix of pleasure boats and fishing vessels bobbing on the water. The typically Australian old pub, with its iron lace balconies was the same too.

But gone was the beaten-up old jetty. It had been replaced by a sleek new pier and a marina, a fishing charter business, and a whale-and dolphin-watching centre topped with a large fibreglass dolphin with an inane painted grin that, in spite of her shock, made her smile. Adjoining was a row of upmarket shops and galleries. The fish and chip shop, where she’d squabbled with her sister over the last chip eaten straight from the vinegar-soaked paper, had been pulled down to make way for a trendy café. The dusty general store was now a fashionable boutique.

And, even though it was February and the school holidays were over, there were people strolling, browsing, licking on ice cream cones—more people than she could remember ever seeing in Dolphin Bay.

For a moment disappointment almost won. But she laughed out loud when she noticed the rubbish bins that sat out on the footpath. Each was in the shape of a dolphin with its mouth wide open.

They were absolute kitsch, but she fell in love with them all over again. Surreptitiously, she patted one on its fibreglass snout. ‘Delighted you’re still here,’ she whispered.

Then, when she looked more closely around her, she noticed that in spite of the new sophistication every business still sported a dolphin motif in some form or another, from a discreet sticker to a carved wooden awning.

And she’d bet Morgan’s Guesthouse at the northern end of the bay wouldn’t have changed. The rambling weatherboard building, dating from the 1920s, would certainly have some sort of a heritage preservation order on it. It was part of the history of the town.

In her mind’s eye she could see the guesthouse the way it had been that magic summer. The shuttered windows, the banks of blue and purple hydrangeas her mother had loved, the old sand tennis court where she’d played hit-and-giggle games with Ben. She hoped it hadn’t changed too much.

As she approached the tourist information kiosk to ask for directions on how to get there she hesitated. Why did she need the guesthouse to be the same?

Did it have something to do with those rapidly returning memories of Ben Morgan? Ben, nineteen to her eighteen, the surfer hunk all the girls had had wild crushes on.

Around from the bay, accessed via a boardwalk, was a magnificent surf beach. When Ben had ridden his board, harnessing the power of the waves like some suntanned young god, there had always been a giggling gaggle of admiring girls on the sand.

She’d never been one of them. No, she’d stood on the sidelines, never daring to dream he’d see her as anything but a guest staying for two weeks with her family at his parents’ guesthouse.

But, to her amazement and joy, he’d chosen her. And then the sun had really started to shine that long-ago summer.

‘Morgan’s Guesthouse?’ said the woman manning the information kiosk. ‘Sorry, love, I’ve never heard of it.’

‘The old wooden building at the northern end of the bay,’ Sandy prompted.

‘There’s only the Hotel Harbourside there,’ the woman said. ‘It’s a modern place—been there as long as I’ve been in town.’

Sandy thanked her and walked away, a little confused.

But she gasped when she saw the stark, modern structure of the luxury hotel that had replaced the charming old weatherboard guesthouse. Its roofline paid some kind of homage to the old-fashioned peaked roof that had stood there the last time she had visited Dolphin Bay, but the concrete and steel of its construction did not. The hotel took up the footprint of the original building and gardens, and rose several floors higher.

Hotel Harbourside? She’d call it Hotel Hideous.

She took a deep, calming breath. Then forced herself to think positive. The new hotel might lack the appeal of the old guesthouse but she’d bet it would be air conditioned and would almost certainly have a decent restaurant. Just the place for a solo thirtieth birthday lunch.

And as she stood on the steps that led from the beach to the hotel and closed her eyes, breathed in the salty air, felt the heat shimmering from the sand, listened to the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the breakwater, she could almost imagine everything was the same as it had been.

Almost.

The interior of the restaurant was all glass, steel and smart design. What a difference from the old guesthouse dining room, with its mismatched wooden chairs, well-worn old table and stacks of board games for ruthlessly played after-dinner tournaments. But the windows that looked out over the bay framed a view that was much the same as it had always been—although now a fleet of dolphin-watching boats plied its tourist trade across the horizon.

She found a table in the corner furthest from the bar and sat down. She took off her hat and squashed it in her bag but kept her sunglasses on. Behind them she felt safer. Protected. Less vulnerable, she had to admit to herself.

She refused to allow even a smidgeon of self-pity to intrude as she celebrated her thirtieth birthday all by herself whilst at the same time her ex Jason was preparing to walk down the aisle.

Casting her eye over the menu, Sandy was startled by a burst of masculine laughter over the chatter from the bar. As that sound soared back into her memory her heart gave an excited leap of recognition. No other man’s laughter could sound like that.

Rich. Warm. Unforgettable.

Ben.

He hadn’t been at the bar when she’d walked in. She’d swear to it. Unless he’d changed beyond all recognition.

She was afraid to look up. Afraid of being disappointed. Afraid of what she might say, do, to the first man to have broken her heart.

Would she go up and say hello? Or put her hat back on and try to slink out without him seeing her?

Despite her fears, she took off her sunglasses with fingers that weren’t quite steady and slowly raised her head.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt the blood drain from her face. He stood with his profile towards her, but it was definitely Ben Morgan: broad-shouldered, towering above the other men in the bar, talking animatedly with a group of people.

From what she could see from this distance he was as handsome as the day they’d said goodbye. His hair was shorter. He wore tailored shorts and a polo-style shirt instead of the Hawaiian print board shorts and singlet he’d favoured when he was nineteen. He was more muscular. Definitely more grown up.

But he was still Ben.

He said something to the guy standing near him, laughed again at his response. Now, as then, he held the attention of everyone around him.

Did he feel her gaze fixed on him?

Something must have made him turn. As their eyes connected, he froze mid-laugh. Nothing about his expression indicated that he recognised her.

For a long, long moment it seemed as if everyone and everything else in the room fell away. The sound of plates clattering, glasses clinking, and the hum of chatter seemed muted. She realised she was holding her breath.

Ben turned back to the man he’d been talking to, said something, then turned to face her again. This time he smiled, acknowledging her, and she let out her breath in a slow sigh.

He made his way to her table with assured, athletic strides. She watched, mesmerised, taking in the changes wrought by twelve years. The broad-shouldered, tightly muscled body, with not a trace of his teenage gangliness. The solid strength of him. The transformation from boy to man. Oh, yes, the teenage Ben was now very definitely a man.

And hotter than ever.

All her senses screamed that recognition.

He’d reached her before she had a chance to get up from her chair.

‘Sandy?’

The voice she hadn’t heard for so long was as deep and husky as she remembered. He’d had a man’s voice even at nineteen. Though only a year older than her, he’d seemed light years ahead in maturity.

Words of greeting she knew she should utter were wedged in her throat. She coughed. Panicked that she couldn’t even manage a hello.

His words filled the void. ‘Or are you Alexandra these days?’

He remembered that. Her father had insisted she be called by her full name of Alexandra. But Alexandra was too much of a mouthful, Ben had decided. He’d called her by the name she preferred. From that summer on she’d been Sandy. Except, of course, to her father and mother.

‘Who’s Alexandra?’ she said now, pretending to look around for someone else.

He laughed with what seemed like genuine pleasure to see her. Suddenly she felt her nervousness, her self-consciousness, drop down a notch or two.

She scrambled up from her chair. The small round table was a barrier between her and the man who’d been everything to her twelve years ago. The man she’d thought she’d never see again.

‘It’s good to see you, Ben,’ she said, her voice still more choked than she would have liked it to be.

His face was the same—strong-jawed and handsome—and his eyes were still as blue as the summer sky at noon. Close-cropped dark blond hair replaced the sun-bleached surfer tangle that so long ago she’d thought was the ultimate in cool. There were creases around his eyes that hadn’t been there when he was nineteen. And there was a tiny white crescent of a scar on his top lip she didn’t remember. But she could still see the boy in the man.

‘It’s good to see you, too,’ he said, in that so-deep-it-bordered-on-gruff voice. ‘I recognised you straight away.’

‘Me too. I mean, I recognised you too.’

What did he see as he looked at her? What outward signs had the last years of living life full steam ahead left on her?

‘You’ve cut your hair,’ he said.

‘So have you,’ she said, and he smiled.

Automatically her hand went up to touch her head. Of course he would notice. Her brown hair had swung below her waist when she’d last seen him, and she remembered how he’d made her swear never, ever to change it. Now it was cut in a chic, city-smart bob and tastefully highlighted.

‘But otherwise you haven’t changed,’ he added in that husky voice. ‘Just grown up.’

‘It’s kind of you to say that,’ she said. But she knew how much she’d changed from that girl that summer.

‘Mind if I join you?’ he asked.

‘Of course. Please. I was just having a drink...’

She sat back down and Ben sat in the chair opposite her. His strong, tanned legs were so close they nudged hers as he settled into place. She didn’t draw her legs back. The slight pressure of his skin on her skin, although momentary, sent waves of awareness coursing through her. She swallowed hard.

She’d used to think Ben Morgan was the best-looking man she’d ever seen. The twelve intervening years had done nothing to change her opinion. No sophisticated city guy had ever matched up to him. Not even Jason.

She’d left the menu open on the table before her. ‘I see you’ve decided on dessert before your main meal,’ Ben said, with that lazy smile which hadn’t changed at all.

‘I was checking out the salads, actually,’ she lied.

‘Really?’ he said, the smile still in his voice, and the one word said everything.

He’d caught her out. Was teasing her. Like he’d used to do. With no brothers, an all-girls school and zero dating experience, she hadn’t been used to boys. Never hurtful or mean, his happy-go-lucky ways had helped get her over that oversensitivity. It was just one of the ways he’d helped her grow up.

‘You’re right,’ she said, relaxing into a smile. ‘Old habits die hard. The raspberry brownie with chocolate fudge sauce does appeal.’ The birthday cake you had when you weren’t having a birthday cake. But she wouldn’t admit to that.

‘That brownie is so good you’ll want to order two servings,’ he said.

Like you used to.

The unspoken words hung between them. Their eyes met for a moment too long to be comfortable. She was the first to look away.

Ben signalled the waiter. As he waved, Sandy had to suppress a gasp at the ugly raised scars that distorted the palms of his hands. What had happened? A fishing accident?

Quickly she averted her eyes so he wouldn’t notice her shock. Or see the questions she didn’t dare ask.

Not now. Not yet.

She rushed to fill the silence that had fallen over their table. ‘It’s been a—’

He finished the sentence for her. ‘Long time?’

‘Yes,’ was all she was able to get out. ‘I was only thinking about you a minute ago and wondering...’

She felt the colour rise up her throat to stain her cheeks. As she’d walked away from the information kiosk and towards the hotel hadn’t she been remembering how Ben had kissed her all those years ago, as they’d lain entwined on the sand in the shadows at the back of the Morgan family’s boat shed? Remembering the promises they’d made to each other between those breathless kisses? Promises she’d really, truly believed.

She felt again as gauche and awkward as she had the night she’d first danced with him, at a bushfire brigade fundraiser dance at the surf club a lifetime ago. Unable to believe that Ben Morgan had actually singled her out from the summer people who’d invaded the locals’ dance.

After their second dance together he’d asked her if she had a boyfriend back home. When she’d shaken her head, he’d smiled.

‘Good,’ he’d said. ‘Then I don’t have to go up to Sydney and fight him for you.’

She’d been so thrilled she’d actually felt dizzy.

The waiter arrived at their table.

‘Can I get you another drink?’ Ben asked.

‘Um, diet cola, please.’

What was wrong with her? Why was she so jittery and on edge?

As a teenager she’d always felt relaxed with Ben, able to be herself. She’d gone home to Sydney a different person from the one who had arrived for that two-week holiday in Dolphin Bay.

She had to stop being so uptight. This was the same Ben. Older, but still Ben. He seemed the same laid-back guy he’d been as her teenage heartthrob. Except—she suppressed a shudder—for the horrendous scarring on his hands.

‘Would you believe this is the first time I’ve been back this way since that summer?’ she said, looking straight into his eyes. She’d used to tell him that eyes so blue were wasted on a man and beg him to swap them for her ordinary hazel-brownish ones.

‘It’s certainly the first time I’ve seen you here,’ he said easily.

Was he, too, remembering those laughing intimacies they’d once shared? Those long discussions of what they’d do with their lives, full of hopes and dreams and youthful optimism? Their resolve not to let the distance between Dolphin Bay and Sydney stop them from seeing each other again?

If he was, he certainly didn’t show it. ‘So what brings you back?’ he asked.

It seemed a polite, uninterested question—the kind a long-ago acquaintance might ask a scarcely remembered stranger who’d blown unexpectedly into town.

‘The sun, the surf and the dolphins?’ she said, determined to match his tone.

He smiled. ‘The surf’s as good as it always was, and the dolphins are still here. But there must be something else to bring a city girl like you to this particular backwater.’

‘B...backwater? I wouldn’t call it that,’ she stuttered. ‘I’m sorry if you think I—’ The gleam in his blue eyes told her he wasn’t serious. She recovered herself. ‘I’m on my way from Sydney through to Melbourne. I saw the turn to this wonderful non-backwater town and here I am. On impulse.’

‘It’s nice you decided to drop in.’ His words were casual, just the right thing to say. Almost too casual. ‘So, how do you find the place?’

She’d never had to lie with Ben. Still, she was in the habit of being tactful. And this was Ben’s hometown.

‘I can’t tell you how overjoyed I was to see those dolphin rubbish bins still there.’

Ben laughed, his strong, even teeth very white against his tan.

That laugh. It still had the power to warm her. Her heart did a curious flipping over thing as she remembered all the laughter they’d shared that long-ago summer. No wonder she’d recognised it instantly.

‘Those hellish things,’ he said. ‘There’s always someone on the progress association who wants to rip them out, but they’re always shouted down.’

‘Thank heaven for that,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be Dolphin Bay without them.’

‘People have even started a rumour that if the dolphins are removed it will be the end of Dolphin Bay.’

She giggled. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘The rubbish bins go and as punishment we’ll be struck by a tsunami. Or some other calamity.’

He rolled his eyes. Just like he’d used to do. That hidden part of her heart marked ‘first love’ reacted with a painful lurch. She averted her gaze from his mouth and that intriguing, sexy little scar.

She remembered the hours of surfing with him, playing tennis on that old court out at the back of the guesthouse. The fun. The laughter. Those passionate, heartfelt kisses. Oh, those kisses—his mouth hard and warm and exciting on hers, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her body straining to his...

The memories gave her the courage to ask the question. It was now or never. ‘Ben. It was a long time ago. But...but why didn’t you write like you said you would?’

For a long moment he didn’t answer and she tensed. Then he shrugged. ‘I never was much for letters. After you didn’t answer the first two I didn’t bother again.’

An edge to his voice hinted that his words weren’t as carefree as they seemed. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You wrote me two letters?’

‘The day after you went home. Then the week after that. Like I promised to.’

Her mouth went suddenly dry. ‘I never got a letter. Never. Or a phone call. I always wondered why...’

No way would she admit how, day after day, she’d hung around the letterbox, hoping against hope that he’d write. Her strict upbringing had meant she was very short on dating experience and vulnerable to doubt.

‘Don’t chase after boys,’ her mother had told her, over and over again. ‘Men are hunters. If he’s interested he’ll come after you. If he doesn’t you’ll only make a fool of yourself by throwing yourself at him.’

But in spite of her mother’s advice she’d tried to phone Ben. Three times she’d braved a phone call to the guesthouse but had hung up without identifying herself when his father had answered. On the third time his father had told her not to ring again. Had he thought she was a nuisance caller? Or realised it was her and didn’t want her bothering his son? Her eighteen-year-old self had assumed the latter.

It had been humiliating. Too humiliating to admit it even now to Ben.

‘Your dad probably got to my letters before you could,’ said Ben. ‘He never approved of me.’

‘That’s not true,’ Sandy stated half-heartedly, knowing she wouldn’t put it past her controlling, righteous father to have intercepted any communication from Ben. In fact she and Ben had decided it was best he not phone her because of her father’s disapproval of the relationship.

‘He’s just a small-town Lothario, Alexandra.’ Her father’s long-ago words echoed in her head. Hardly. Ben had treated her with the utmost respect. Unlike the private school sons of his friends her father had tried to foist on her.

‘Your dad wanted more for you than a small-town fisherman.’ Ben’s blue eyes were shrewd and piercing. ‘And you probably came to agree with him.’

Sandy dropped her gaze and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Over and over her father had told her to forget about Ben. He wasn’t suitable. They came from different worlds. Where was the future for a girl who had academic talents like hers with a boy who’d finished high school but had no intention of going any further?

Underneath it all had been the unspoken message: He’s not good enough for you.

She’d never believed that—not for a second. But she had come to believe there was no future for them.

Inconsolable after their summer together, she’d sobbed into her pillow at night when Ben hadn’t written. Scribbled endless notes to him she’d never had the courage to send.

But he hadn’t got in touch and she’d forced herself to forget him. To get over something that obviously hadn’t meant anything to him.

‘Men make promises they never intend to keep, Alexandra.’ How many times had her mother told her that?

Then, once she’d started university in Sydney, Dolphin Bay and Ben Morgan had seemed far away and less and less important. Her father was right—a surfer boyfriend wouldn’t have fitted in with her new crowd anyway, she’d told herself. Then there’d been other boys. Other kisses. And she’d been too grown up for family holidays at Dolphin Bay or anywhere else.

Still, there remained a place in her heart that had always stayed a little raw, that hurt if she pulled out her memories and prodded at them.

But Ben had written to her.

She swirled the ice cubes round and round in her glass, still unable to meet his eyes, not wanting him to guess how disconcerted she felt. How the knowledge he hadn’t abandoned her teenage self took the sting from her memories.

‘It was a long time ago...’ she repeated, her voice tapering away. ‘Things change.’

‘Yep. Twelve years tends to do that.’

She wasn’t sure if he was talking about her, him, or the town. She seized on the more neutral option.

‘Yes.’ She looked around her, waved a hand to encompass the stark fashionable furnishings. ‘Like this hotel.’

‘What about this hotel?’

‘It’s very smart, but not very sympathetic, is it?’

‘I kinda like it myself,’ he said, and took a drink from his beer.

‘You’re not upset at what the developers did on the site of your family’s beautiful guesthouse?’

‘Like you said. Things change. The guesthouse has...has gone forever.’

He paused and she got the impression he had to control his voice.

‘But this hotel and all the new developments around it have brought jobs for a lot of people. Some say it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to the place.’

‘Do you?’

Sandy willed him to say no, wanting Ben to be the same carefree boy who’d lived for the next good wave, the next catch from the fishing boats he’d shared with his father, but knew somehow from the expression on his face that he wouldn’t.

But still his reply came as a surprise. ‘I own this hotel, Sandy.’

‘You...you do?’

‘Yep. Unsympathetic design and all.’

She clapped her hand to her mouth but she couldn’t take back the words. ‘I’m...I’m so sorry I insulted it.’

‘No offence taken on behalf of the award-winning architect.’

‘Really? It’s won awards?’

‘A stack of ’em.’

She noted the convivial atmosphere at the bar, the rapidly filling tables. ‘It’s very smart, of course. And I’m sure it’s very successful. It’s just...the old place was so charming. Your mother was so proud of it.’

‘My parents left the guesthouse long ago. Glad to say goodbye to the erratic plumbing and the creaking floorboards. They built themselves a comfortable new house up on the headland when I took over.’

Whoa. Surprise on surprise. She knew lots must have changed in twelve years, but this? ‘You took over the running of the guesthouse?’ Somehow, she couldn’t see Ben in that role. She thought of him always as outdoors, an action man—not indoors, pandering to the whims of guests.

‘My wife did.’

His wife.

The words stabbed into Sandy’s heart.

His wife.

If she hadn’t already been sitting down she would have had to. Stupidly, she hadn’t considered—not for one minute—that Ben would be married.

She shot a quick glance at his left hand. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but then plenty of married men didn’t. She’d learned that lesson since she’d been single again.

‘Of course. Of course you would have married,’ she babbled, forcing her mouth into the semblance of a smile.

She clutched her glass so tightly she feared it would shatter. Frantically she tried to mould her expression into something normal, show a polite interest in an old friend’s new life.

‘Did you...did you marry someone from around here?’

‘Jodi Hart.’

Immediately Sandy remembered her. Jodi, with her quiet manner and gentle heart-shaped face. ‘She was lovely,’ she said, meaning every word while trying not to let an unwarranted jealousy flame into life.

‘Yes,’ Ben said, and a muscle pulled at the side of his mouth, giving it a weary twist.

His face seemed suddenly drawn under the bronze of his tan. She was aware of lines etched around his features. She hadn’t noticed them in the first flush of surprise at their meeting. Maybe their marriage wasn’t happy.

Ben drummed his fingers on the surface of the table. Again her eyes were drawn to the scars on his hands. Horrible, angry ridges that made her wince at the sight of them.

‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Did you marry?’

Sandy shook her head. ‘Me? Marry? No. My partner...he...he didn’t believe in marriage.’

Her voice sounded brittle to her own ears. How she’d always hated that ambiguous term partner.

‘“Just a piece of paper,” he used to say.’ She forced a laugh and hoped it concealed any trace of heartbreak. ‘Sure made it easy when we split up. No messy divorce or anything.’

No way would she admit how distraught she’d been. How angry and hurt and humiliated.

His jaw clenched. ‘I’m sorry. Did—?’

She put her hand up to stop his words. ‘Thank you. But there’s no point in talking about it.’ She made herself smile. ‘Water under the bridge, you know.’

It was six months since she’d last seen Jason. And that had only been to pay him for his half of the sofa they’d bought together.

Ben looked at her as if he were searching her face for something. His gaze was so intense she began to feel uncomfortable. When—at last—he spoke, his words were slow and considered.

‘Water under the bridge. You’re right.’

‘Yes,’ she said, not sure what to say next.

After another long, awkward pause, he glanced at his watch. ‘It’s been great to see you, Sandy. But I have a meeting to get to.’ He pushed back his chair and got up.

‘Of course.’ She wanted to put out a hand to stop him. There was more she wanted to ask him. Memories she wanted to share. But there was no reason for him to stay. No reason for him to know it was her birthday and how much she would enjoy his company for lunch.

He was married.

Married men did not share intimate lunches alone with former girlfriends, even if their last kiss had been twelve years ago.

She got up, too, resisting the urge to sigh. ‘It was wonderful to catch up after all these years. Please...please give my regards to Jodi.’

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. Then indicated the menu. ‘Lunch is on the house. I’ll tell the desk you’re my guest.’

‘You really don’t have to, Ben.’

‘Please. I insist. For...for old times’ sake.’

She hesitated. Then smiled tentatively. ‘Okay. Thank you. I’m being nostalgic but they were good old times, weren’t they? I have only happy memories of Dolphin Bay.’ Of the time we spent together.

She couldn’t kiss him goodbye. Instead she offered her hand for him to shake.

He paused for a second, then took it in his warm grip, igniting memories of the feel of his hands on her body, the caresses that had never gone further than she’d wanted. But back then she hadn’t felt the hard ridges of those awful scars. And now she had no right to recall such intimate memories.

Ben was married.

‘I’m sorry I was rude about your hotel,’ she said, very seriously. Then she injected a teasing tone into her voice. ‘But I’ll probably never stop wondering why you destroyed the guesthouse. And those magnificent gum trees—there’s not one left. Remember the swing that—?’

Ben let go her hand. ‘Sandy. It was just a building.’

Too late she realised it wasn’t any of her business to go on about the guesthouse just because she was disappointed it had been demolished.

‘Ben, I—’

He cut across her. ‘It’s fine. That was the past, and it’s where it should be. But it really has been great seeing you again...enjoy your lunch. Goodbye, Sandy.’

‘Good-goodbye, Ben,’ she managed to stutter out, stunned by his abrupt farewell, by the feeling that he wasn’t being completely honest with her.

Without another word he turned from her, strode to the exit, nodded towards the people at the bar, and closed the door behind him. She gripped the edge of the table, swept by a wave of disappointment so intense she felt she was drowning in it.

What had she said? Had she crossed a line without knowing it? And why did she feel emptier than when she’d first arrived back in Dolphin Bay? Because when she’d written her birthday resolutions hadn’t she had Ben Morgan in mind? When she’d described a kind man, free of hang-ups and deadly ambition, hadn’t she been remembering him? Remembering how his straightforward approach to life had helped her grow up that summer? Grow up enough to defy her father and set her own course.

She was forced to admit to herself it wasn’t the pier or the guesthouse she’d wanted to be the same in Dolphin Bay. It was the man who represented the antithesis of the cruel, city-smart man who had hurt her so badly.

In her self-centred fantasy she hadn’t given a thought to Ben being married—just to him always being here, stuck in a time warp.

A waitress appeared to clear her glass away, but then paused and looked at her. Sandy wished she’d put her sunglasses back on. Her hurt, her disappointment, her anger at herself, must be etched on her face.

The waitress was a woman of about her own age, with a pretty freckled face and curly auburn hair pulled back tightly. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know you,’ she said suddenly. ‘Sandy, right? Years ago you came down from Sydney to stay at Morgan’s Guesthouse.’

‘That’s right,’ Sandy said, taken aback at being recognised.

‘I’m Kate Parker,’ the woman said, ‘but I don’t suppose you remember me.’

Sandy dredged through her memories. ‘Yes, I do.’ She forced a smile. ‘You were the best dancer I’d ever seen. My sister and I desperately tried to copy you, but we could never be as good.’

‘Thanks,’ Kate replied, looking pleased at the compliment. She looked towards the door Ben had exited through. ‘You dated Ben, didn’t you? Poor guy. He’s had it tough.’

‘Tough?’

‘You don’t know?’ The other woman’s voice was almost accusing.

How would she know what had gone on in Ben Morgan’s life in the twelve years since she’d last seen him?

‘Lost his wife and child when the old guesthouse burned down,’ Kate continued. ‘Jodi died trying to rescue their little boy. Ben was devastated. Went away for a long time—did very well for himself. When he came back he built this hotel as modern and as different from the old place as could be. Couldn’t bear the memories...’

Kate Parker chattered on, but Sandy didn’t wait to hear any more. She pushed her chair back so fast it fell over and clattered onto the ground. She didn’t stop to pull it up.

She ran out of the bar, through the door and towards the steps to the shoreline, heart pumping, face flushed, praying frantically to the god of second chances.

Ben.

She just had to find Ben.

CHAPTER TWO

TAKING THE STEPS two at a time, nearly tripping over her feet in her haste, Sandy ran onto the whiter-than-white sand of Dolphin Bay.

Ben was way ahead of her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he strode along towards the rocks, defying the wind that had sprung up while she was in the hotel and was now whipping the water to a frosting of whitecaps.

She had to catch up with him. Explain. Apologise. Tell him how dreadfully sorry she was about Jodi and his son. Tell him... Oh, so much she wanted to tell him. Needed to tell him. But the deep, fine sand was heavy around her feet, slowing her so she felt she was making no progress at all.

‘Ben!’ she shouted, but the wind just snatched the words out of her mouth and he didn’t turn around.

She fumbled with her sandals and yanked them off, the better to run after him.

‘Ben!’ she called again, her voice hoarse, the salt wind whipping her hair around her face and stinging her eyes.

At last he stopped. Slowly, warily, he turned to face her. It seemed an age until she’d struggled through the sand to reach him. He stood unmoving, his face rigid, his eyes guarded. How hadn’t she seen it before?

‘Ben,’ she whispered, scarcely able to get the word out. ‘I’m sorry... I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

His eyes searched her face. ‘You know?’

She nodded. ‘Kate told me. She thought I already knew. I don’t know what to say.’

* * *

Ben looked down at Sandy’s face, at her cheeks flushed pink, her brown hair all tangled and blown around her face. Her eyes were huge with distress, her mouth oddly stained bright pink in the centre. She didn’t look much older than the girl he’d loved all those years ago.

The girl he’d recognised as soon as she’d come into the hotel restaurant. Recognised and—just for one wild, unguarded second before he pummelled the thought back down to the depths of his wounded heart—let himself exult that she had come back. His first love. The girl he had never forgotten. Had never expected to see again.

For just those few minutes when they’d chatted he’d donned the mask of the carefree boy he’d been when they’d last met.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, her voice barely audible through the wind.

‘You couldn’t have known,’ he said.

Silence fell between them for a long moment and he found he could not stop himself from searching her face. Looking for change. He wanted there to be no sign of the passing years on her, though he was aware of how much he had changed himself.

Then she spoke. ‘When did...?’

‘Five years ago,’ he said gruffly.

He didn’t want to talk to Sandy about what the locals called ‘his tragedy’. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore full-stop—but particularly not to Sandy, who’d once been so special to him.

Sandy Adams belonged in his past. Firmly in his past. Water under the bridge, as she’d so aptly said.

She bit down on her lower lip. ‘I can’t imagine how you must feel—’

‘No, you can’t,’ he said, more abruptly than he’d intended, and was ashamed at the flash of hurt that tightened her face. ‘No one could. But I’ve put it behind me...’

Her eyes—warm, compassionate—told him she knew he was lying. How could he ever put that terrible day of helpless rage and despair behind him? The empty, guilt-ridden days that had followed it? The years of punishing himself, of not allowing himself to feel again?

‘Your hands,’ she said softly. ‘Is that how you hurt them?’

He nodded, finding words with difficulty. ‘The metal door handles were burning hot when I tried to open them.’

Fearsome images came back—the heat, the smoke, the door that would not give despite his weight behind it, his voice raw from screaming Jodi’s and Liam’s names.

He couldn’t stop the shudder that racked his frame. ‘I don’t talk about it.’

Mutely, she nodded, and her eyes dropped from his face. But not before he read the sorrow for him there.

Once again he felt ashamed of his harshness towards her. But that was him these days. Ben Morgan: thirty-one going on ninety.

His carefree self of that long-ago summer had been forged into someone tougher, harder, colder. Someone who would not allow emotion or softness in his life. Even the memories of a holiday romance. For with love came the agony of loss, and he could never risk that again.

She looked up at him. ‘If...if there’s anything I can do to help, you’ll let me know, won’t you?’

Again he nodded, but knew in his heart it was an empty gesture. Sandy was just passing through, and he was grateful. He didn’t want to revisit times past.

He’d only loved two women—his wife, Jodi, and, before her, Sandy. It was too dangerous to have his first love around, reminding him of what he’d vowed never to feel again. He’d resigned himself to a life alone.

‘You’ve booked in to the hotel?’ he asked.

‘Not yet, but I will.’

‘For how long?’

Visibly, her face relaxed. She was obviously relieved at the change of subject. He remembered she’d never been very good at hiding her emotions.

‘Just tonight,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way to Melbourne for an interview about a franchise opportunity.’

‘Why Melbourne?’ That was a hell of a long way from Dolphin Bay—as he knew from his years at university there.

‘Why not?’ she countered.

He turned and started walking towards the rocks again. Automatically she fell into step behind him. He waited.

Yes. He wasn’t imagining it. It was happening.

After every three of his long strides she had to skip for a bit to keep up with him. Just like she had twelve years ago. And she didn’t even seem to be aware that she was doing it.

‘You’re happy to leave Sydney?’

‘There’s nothing for me in Sydney now,’ she replied.

Her voice was light, matter-of-fact, but he didn’t miss the underlying note of bitterness.

He stopped. Went to halt her with a hand on her arm and thought better of it. No matter. She automatically stopped with him, in tune with the rhythm of his pace.

‘Nothing?’ he asked.

Not meeting his gaze, swinging her sandals by her side, she shrugged. ‘Well, my sister Lizzie and my niece Amy. But...no one else.’

‘Your parents?’

Her mouth twisted in spite of her effort to smile. ‘They’re not together any more. Turns out Dad had been cheating on my mother for years. The first Mum heard about it was when his mistress contacted her, soon after we got home from Dolphin Bay that summer. He and Mum patched it up that time. And the next. Finally he left her for his receptionist. She’s two years older than I am.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

But he was not surprised. He’d never liked the self-righteous Dr Randall Adams. Had hated the way he’d tried to control every aspect of Sandy’s life. He wasn’t surprised the older man had intercepted his long-ago letters. He’d made it very clear he had considered a fisherman not good enough for a doctor’s daughter.

‘That must have been difficult for you,’ he said.

Sandy pushed her windblown hair back from her face in a gesture he remembered. ‘I’m okay about it. Now. And Mum’s remarried to a very nice man and living in Queensland.’

During that summer he’d used to tease her about her optimism. ‘You should be called Sunny, not Sandy,’ he’d say as he kissed the tip of her sunburned nose. ‘You never let anything get you down.’

It seemed she hadn’t changed—in that regard anyway. But when he looked closely at her face he could see a tightness around her mouth, a wariness in her eyes he didn’t recall.

Maybe things weren’t always so sunny for her these days. Perhaps her cup-half-full mentality had been challenged by life’s storm clouds in the twelve years since he’d last seen her.

Suddenly she glanced at her watch. She couldn’t smother her gasp. The colour drained from her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked immediately.

‘Nothing,’ she said, tight lipped.

Nothing. Why did women always say that when something was clearly wrong?

‘Then why did you stare at your watch like it was about to explode? Is it connected to a bomb somewhere?’

That brought a twitch to her lips. ‘I wish.’

She lifted her eyes from the watch. Her gaze was steady. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but right at this very moment Jason—my...my former boyfriend, partner, live-in lover or whatever you like to call him—is getting married.’

Sandy with a live-in boyfriend? She’d said she’d had a partner but had it been that serious? The knowledge hit him in the gut. Painfully. Unexpectedly. Stupidly.

What he and Sandy had had together was a teen romance. Kid stuff. They’d both moved on. He’d married Jodi. Of course Sandy would have had another man in her life.

But he had to clear his throat to reply. ‘And that’s bad or good?’

She laughed. But the laugh didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Well, good for him. Good for her, I guess. I’m still not sure how I feel about coming home one day to find his possessions gone and a note telling me he’d moved in with her.’

‘You’re kidding me, right?’ Ben growled. How could someone treat his Sandy like that. His Sandy. That was a slip. She hadn’t been his for a long, long time.

‘I’m afraid not. It was...humiliating to say the least.’ Her tone sounded forced, light. ‘But, hey, it makes for a great story.’

A great story? Yeah, right.

There went sunny Sandy again, laughing off something that must still cause her pain.

‘Sounds to me like you’re better off without him.’

‘The further I get from him the more I can see that,’ she said. But she didn’t sound convinced.

‘As far away as Melbourne?’ he asked, finding the thought of her so far away unsettling.

‘I’m not running away,’ she said firmly. Too firmly. ‘I need change. A new job, a new—’

‘Your job? What is that?’ he asked, realising how little he knew about her now. ‘Did you study law like your father wanted?’

‘No, I didn’t. Don’t look so surprised—it was because of you.’

‘Me?’ No wonder her father had hated him.

‘You urged me to follow my dreams—like you were following yours. I thought about that a lot when I got back home. And my dream wasn’t to be a solicitor.’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t think of anything less me.’

He’d studied law as part of his degree and liked it. But he wasn’t as creative as he remembered Sandy being. ‘But you studied for years so you’d get a place in law.’

‘Law at Sydney University.’ She pronounced the words as though they were spelled in capital letters. ‘That was my father’s ambition for me. He’d given up his plans for me to be a doctor when I didn’t cut it in chemistry.’

‘You didn’t get enough marks in the Higher School Certificate for law?’

‘I got the marks, all right. Not long after we got back to Sydney the results came out. I was in the honour roll in the newspaper. You should have heard my father boasting to anyone who’d listen to him.’

‘I’ll bet he did.’ Ben had no respect for the guy. He was a bully and a snob. But he had reason to be grateful to him. Not for ruining things with him and Sandy. But for putting the bomb under him he’d needed to get off his teenage butt and make himself worthy of a girl like Sandy.

‘At the last minute I switched to a communications degree. At what my father considered a lesser university.’

‘He must have hit the roof.’

Sandy’s mouth tightened to a thin line. ‘As he’d just been outed as an adulterer he didn’t have a leg to stand on about doing the right thing for the family.’

Ben smiled. It sounded as if Sandy had got a whole lot feistier when it came to standing up to her father. ‘So what career did you end up in?’

‘I’m in advertising.’ She quickly corrected herself. ‘I was in advertising. An account executive.’

On occasion he dealt with an advertising agency to help promote his hotel. The account executives were slick, efficient, and tough as old boots. Not at all the way he thought of Sandy. ‘Sounds impressive.’

‘It was.’

‘Was?’

‘Long story,’ she said, and started to walk towards the rocks again.

‘I’m listening,’ he said, falling into step beside her.

The wind had dropped and now the air around them seemed unnaturally still. Seagulls screeched raucously. He looked through narrowed eyes to the horizon, where grey clouds were banking up ominously.

Sandy followed his gaze. She wrinkled her cute up-tilted nose. ‘Storm brewing,’ she said. ‘I wonder—’

‘Don’t change the subject by talking about the weather,’ he said, stopping himself from adding, I remember how you always did that.

He shouldn’t have let himself get reeled in to such a nostalgic conversation. There was no point in dredging up those old memories. Not when their lives were now set on such different paths. And his path was one he needed—wanted—to tread unencumbered. He could not survive more loss. And the best way to avoid loss was to avoid the kind of attachment that could tear a man apart.

He wanted to spend his life alone. Though the word ‘alone’ seemed today to have a desolate echo to it.

She shrugged. ‘Okay. Back to my story. Jason and I were both working at the same agency when we met. The boss didn’t think it was a good idea when we started dating...’

‘So you had to go? Not him?’

She pulled a face. ‘We...ell. I convinced myself I’d been there long enough.’

‘So you went elsewhere? Another agency?’

She nodded. ‘And then the economy hit a blip, advertising revenues suffered, and last one in was first one out.’

‘That must have been tough.’

‘Yeah. It was. But, hey, one door closes and another one opens, right? I got freelance work at different agencies and learned a whole lot of stuff I might never have known otherwise.’

Yep, that was the old Sandy all right—never one to allow adversity to cloud her spirit.

She took a deep breath. He noticed how her breasts rose under her tight-fitting top. She’d filled out—womanly curves softened the angles of her teenage body. Her face was subtly different too, her cheekbones more defined, her mouth fuller.

He wouldn’t have thought it possible but she was even more beautiful than she’d been when she was eighteen.

He wrenched his gaze away, cleared his throat. ‘So you’re looking at a franchise?’

Her eyes sparkled and her voice rose with excitement. ‘My chance to be my own boss, run my own show. It’s this awesome candle store. A former client of mine started it.’

‘You were in advertising and now you want to sell candles? Aren’t there enough candle stores in this world?’

‘These aren’t ordinary candles, Ben. The store is a raging success in Sydney. Now they’re looking to open up in other towns. They’re interviewing for a Melbourne franchise and I put my hand up.’

She paused.

‘I want to do something different. Something of my own. Something challenging.’

She looked so earnest, so determined, that he couldn’t help a teasing note from entering his voice. ‘So it’s candles? I don’t see the challenge there.’

‘Don’t you?’ she asked. ‘There’s a scented candle for every mood, you know—to relax, to stimulate, to seduce—’

She stopped on the last word, and the colour deepened in her cheeks, flushed the creamy skin of her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously and she couldn’t meet his gaze.

‘Well, you get the story. I wrote the copy for the client. There’s not much I don’t know about the merits of those candles.’ She was almost gabbling now to cover her embarrassment.

To seduce.

When he’d been nineteen, seducing Sandy had been all he’d thought about. Until he’d fallen in love with her. Then respecting her innocence had become more important than his own desires. The number of cold showers he’d been forced to take...

Thunder rumbled ominously over the water. ‘C’mon,’ he said gruffly, ‘we’d better turn back.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I suppose it’s too late now for my birthday lunch...’ She hesitated. ‘Please—forget I just said that, will you?’

‘It’s your birthday today?’

She shrugged dismissively. ‘Yes. It’s nothing special.’

He thought back. ‘It’s your thirtieth birthday.’

And she was celebrating alone?

‘Eek,’ she said in an exaggerated tone. ‘Please don’t remind me of my advancing years.’

‘February—of course. How could I forget?’ he said slowly.

‘You remember my birthday?’

‘I’d be lying if I said I recalled the exact date. But I remember it was in February because you were always pointing out how compatible our star signs were. Remember you used to check our horoscopes in your father’s newspaper every day and—?’

He checked himself. Mentally he slammed his hand against his forehead. He’d been so determined not to indulge in reminiscence about that summer and now he’d gone and started it himself.

She didn’t seem to notice his sudden reticence. ‘Yes, I remember. You’re Leo and I’m Pisces,’ she chattered on. ‘And you always gave me a hard time about it. Said astrology was complete hokum and the people at the newspaper just made the horoscopes up.’

‘I still think that and—’ He stopped as a loud clap of thunder drowned out his voice. Big, cold drops of water started pelting his head.

Sandy laughed. ‘The heavens are angry at you for mocking them.’

‘Sure,’ he said, but found himself unable to resist a smile at her whimsy. ‘And if you don’t want to get drenched we’ve got to make a run for it.’

‘Race you!’ she challenged, still laughing, and took off, her slim, tanned legs flashing ahead of him.

He caught up with her in just a few strides.

‘Not fair,’ she said, panting a little. ‘Your legs are longer than mine.’

He slowed his pace just enough so she wouldn’t think he was purposely letting her win.

She glanced up at him as they ran side by side, her eyes lively with laughter, fat drops of water dampening her hair and rolling down her flushed cheeks. The sight of her vivacity ignited something deep inside him—something long dormant, like a piece of machinery, seized and unwanted, suddenly grinding slowly to life.

‘I gave you a head start,’ he managed to choke out in reply to her complaint.

But he didn’t get a chance to say anything else for, waiting at the top of the stairs to the hotel, wringing her hands anxiously together, stood Kate Parker.

‘Oh, Ben, thank heaven. I didn’t know where you were. Your aunt Ida has had a fall and hurt her pelvis, but she won’t let the ambulance take her to hospital until she’s spoken to you.’

CHAPTER THREE

SANDY WAS HALFWAY up the stairs, determined to beat Ben to the top. Slightly out of breath, she couldn’t help smiling to herself over the fact that Ben had remembered her birthday. Hmm... Should she be reading something into that?

And then Kate was there, with her worried expression and urgent words, and the smile froze on Sandy’s face.

She immediately looked to Ben. Her heart seemed to miss a beat as his face went rigid, every trace of laughter extinguished.

‘What happened?’ he demanded of the red-haired waitress.

‘She fell—’

‘Tap-dancing? Or playing tennis?’

Kate’s face was pale under her freckles. ‘Neither. Ida fell moving a pile of books. You know what she’s like. Pretends she’s thirty-five, not seventy-five—’

Ida? A seventy-five-year-old tap-dancing aunt? Sandy vaguely remembered Ben all those years ago talking about an aunt—a great-aunt?—he’d adored.

‘Where is she?’ Ben growled, oblivious to the rain falling down on him in slow, heavy drops, slicking his hair, dampening his shirt so it clung to his back and shoulders, defining his powerful muscles.

‘In the ambulance in front of her bookshop,’ said Kate. ‘Better hurry. I’ll tell the staff where you are, then join you—’

Before Kate had finished speaking, Ben had turned on his heel and headed around to the side of the hotel with the long, athletic strides Sandy had always had trouble keeping up with.

‘Ben!’ Sandy called after him, then forced herself to stop. Wasn’t this her cue to cut out? As in, Goodbye, Ben, it was cool to catch up with you. Best of luck with everything. See ya.

That would be the sensible option. And Sandy, the practical list-maker, might be advised to take it. Sandy, who was on her way to Melbourne and a new career. A new life.

But this was about Ben.

Ben, with his scarred hands and scarred heart.

Ben, who might need some support.

Whether he wanted it or not.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she called after him, all thoughts of her thirtieth birthday lunch put on hold.

Quickly she fastened the buckles on her sandals. Wished for a moment that she had an umbrella. But she didn’t really care about getting wet. She just wanted to be with Ben.

She’d never met a more masculine man, but the tragedy he had suffered gave him a vulnerability she could not ignore. Was he in danger of losing someone else he loved? It was an unbearable thought.

‘Ben! Wait for me!’ she called.

He turned and glanced back at her, but made no comment as she caught up with him. Good, so he didn’t mind her tagging along.

His hand brushed hers as they strode along together. She longed to take it and squeeze it reassuringly but didn’t dare. Touching wasn’t on the agenda. Not any more.

Within minutes they’d reached the row of new shops that ran down from the side of the hotel.

There was an ambulance parked on the footpath out of the rain, under the awning in front of a shop named Bay Books. When she’d driven past she’d admired it because of its charming doorframe, carved with frolicking dolphins. Who’d have thought she’d next be looking at it under circumstances like this?

A slight, elderly lady with cropped silver hair lay propped up on a gurney in front of the open ambulance doors.

This was Great-Aunt Ida?

Sandy scoured her memories. Twelve years ago she’d been so in love with Ben she’d lapped up any detail about his family, anything that concerned him. Wasn’t there a story connected to Ida? Something the family had had to live down?

Ben was instantly by his aunt’s side. ‘Idy, what have you done to yourself this time?’ he scolded, in a stern but loving voice.

He gripped Ida’s fragile gnarled hand with his much bigger, scarred one. Sandy caught her breath at the look of exasperated tenderness on his face. Remembered how caring he’d been to the people he loved. How protective he’d been of her when she was eighteen.

Back then she’d been so scared of the big waves. Every day Ben had coaxed her a little further from the shore, building her confidence with his reassuring presence. On the day she’d finally caught a wave and ridden her body-board all the way in to shore, squealing and laughing at the exhilaration of it, she’d looked back to see he had arranged an escort of his brother and his best mates—all riding the same break. What kind of guy would do that? She’d never met one since, that was for sure.

‘Cracked my darn pelvis, they think. I tripped, that’s all.’ Ida’s face was contorted with annoyance as much as with pain.

Ben whipped around to face the ambulance officer standing by his aunt. ‘Then why isn’t she in the hospital?’

‘Point-blank refused to let me take her. Insisted on seeing you first,’ the paramedic said with raised eyebrows and admirable restraint, considering the way Ben was glaring at him. ‘Tried to get her to call you from hospital but she wasn’t budging.’

‘That’s right,’ said Ben’s aunt in a surprisingly strong voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere until my favourite great-nephew promises to look after my shop.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Ben, without a second’s hesitation. ‘I’ll lock it up safely. Now, c’mon, let’s get you in the ambulance and—’

His aunt Ida tried to rise from the gurney. ‘That’s not what I meant. That’s not good enough—’ she said, before her words were cut short by a little whimper of pain.

Sandy shifted from sodden sandal to sodden sandal. Looked away to the intricately carved awning. She felt like an interloper, an uninvited witness to Ben’s intimate family drama. Why hadn’t she stayed at the beach?

‘Don’t worry about the shop,’ said Ben, his voice burred with worry. ‘I’ll sort something out for you. Let’s just get you to the hospital.’

‘It’s not life or death,’ said the paramedic, ‘but, yes, she should be on her way.’

Ida closed her eyes briefly and Sandy’s heart lurched at the weariness that crossed her face. Please let her be all right—for Ben’s sake.

But then the older lady’s eyes snapped into life again. They were the same blue as Ben’s and remarkably unfaded. ‘I can’t leave my shop closed for all that time.’

The paramedic interrupted. ‘She might have to lie still in bed for weeks.’

‘That’s not acceptable,’ continued the formidable Ida. ‘You’ll have to find me a manager. Keep my business going.’

‘Just get to the ER and I’ll do something about that later,’ said Ben.

‘Not later. Now,’ said Aunt Ida, sounding nothing like a little old lady lying seriously injured on a gurney. Maybe she was pumped full of painkillers.

Sandy struggled to suppress a grin. For all his tough, grown-up ways she could still see the nineteen-year-old Ben. He was obviously aching to bundle his feisty aunt into the ambulance but was too respectful to try it.

Aunt Ida’s eyes sought out Kate, who was now standing next to Sandy. ‘Kate? Can you—?’

Kate shook her head regretfully. ‘No can do, I’m afraid.’

‘She’s needed at the hotel. We’re short-staffed,’ said Ben, with an edge of impatience to his voice.

Ida’s piercing blue gaze turned to Sandy. ‘What about you?’

‘Me?’ Was the old lady serious? Or delirious?

Before Sandy could stutter out anything more, Kate had turned to face her.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. What about you, Sandy? Are you on holiday? Could you help out?’

‘What? No. Sorry. I’m on my way to Melbourne.’ She was so aghast she was gabbling. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to—’

‘Friend of Kate’s, are you?’ persisted the old lady, in a voice that in spite of her obvious efforts was beginning to tire.

Compelled by good manners, Sandy took a step forward. ‘No. Yes. Kind of... I—’

She looked imploringly at Ben, uncertain of what to say, not wanting to make an already difficult situation worse.

‘Sandy’s an...an old friend of mine,’ he said, stumbling on the word friend. ‘Just passing through.’

‘Oh,’ said the older lady, ‘so she can’t help out. And I can’t afford to lose even a day’s business.’

Her face seemed to collapse and she looked every minute of her seventy-five years.

Suddenly she reminded Sandy of her grandmother—her mother’s mother. How would she feel if Grandma were stuck in a situation like this?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Pity.’ Ida sighed. ‘You look nice. Intelligent. The kind of person I could trust with my shop.’ Wearily she closed her eyes again. ‘Find me someone like her, Ben.’

Her voice was beginning to waver. Sandy could barely hear it over the sound of the rain drumming on the awning overhead.

Ben looked from Sandy to his aunt and then back to Sandy again, his eyes unreadable. ‘Maybe...maybe Sandy can be convinced to stay for a few days,’ he said.

Huh? Sandy stared at him. ‘But, Ben, I—’

Ben held her with his glance, his blue eyes intense. He leaned closer to her. ‘Just play along with me and say yes so I can get her to go to the hospital,’ he muttered from the side of his mouth.

‘Oh.’ She paused. Thought for a moment. Thought again. ‘Okay. I’ll look after the shop. Just for a few days. Until you get someone else.’

‘You promise?’ asked Ida.

Promise? Like a cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die-type promise? The kind of promise she never went back on?

Disconcerted, Sandy nodded. ‘I promise.’

What crazy impulse had made her come out with that? Wanting to please Ben?

Or maybe it was the thought of what she would have liked to happen if it was her grandmother, injured, in pain, and having to beg a stranger to help her.

Ida’s eyes connected with hers. ‘Thank you. Come and see me in the hospital,’ she said, before relaxing with a sigh back onto the gurney.

‘Right. That’s settled.’ Ben slapped the side of the ambulance, turned to the ambulance officer. ‘I’ll ride in the back with my aunt.’

A frail but imperious hand rose. ‘You show your friend around Bay Books. Settle her in.’

Sandy had to fight a smile as she watched Ben do battle with his great-aunt to let him accompany her to the hospital.

Minutes later she stood by Ben’s side, watching the tail-lights of the ambulance disappear into the rain. Kate was in the back with Ida.

‘Your aunt Ida is quite a lady,’ Sandy said, biting her lip to suppress her grin.

‘You bet,’ said Ben, with a wry smile of his own.

‘Isn’t she the aunt who...?’ She held up her hand. ‘Wait. Let me remember. I know!’ she said triumphantly. ‘The aunt who ran off with an around-the-world sailor?’

Ben’s eyes widened. ‘You remember that? From all that time ago?’

I remember because you—and the family I fantasised about marrying into—were so important to me. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t—couldn’t—put her voice to them. ‘Of course,’ she said instead. ‘Juicy scandals tend to stick in my mind.’

‘It was a scandal. For these parts anyway. She was the town spinster, thirty-five and unmarried.’

‘Spinster? Ouch! What an awful word.’ She giggled. ‘Hey, I’m thirty and unmarried. Does that make me—’ she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers ‘—a spinster?’

‘As if,’ Ben said with a grin. ‘Try career woman about town—isn’t that more up to date?’

‘Sounds better. But the message is the same.’ She pulled a mock glum face.

Ben stilled, and suddenly he wasn’t joking. He looked into her face for a long, intense minute. An emotion she didn’t recognise flashed through his eyes and then was gone.

‘That boyfriend of yours was an idiot,’ he said gruffly.

He lifted a hand as if he was about to touch her, maybe run his finger down her cheek to her mouth like he’d used to.

She tensed, waiting, not sure if she wanted him to or not. Awareness hung between them like the shimmer off the sea on a thirty-eight-degree day.

He moved a step closer. So close she could clearly see that sexy scar on his mouth. She wondered how it would feel if he kissed her...if he took her in his arms...

Her heart began to hammer in her chest so violently surely he must hear it. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

But then, abruptly, he dropped his hand back by his side, stepped away. ‘He didn’t deserve you,’ he said, in a huskier-than-ever voice.

She breathed out, not realising she had been holding her breath. Not knowing whether to feel disappointed or relieved that there was now a safe, non-kissing zone between her and the man she’d once loved.

She cleared her throat, disconcerted by the certain knowledge that if Ben had kissed her she wouldn’t have pushed him away. No. She would have swayed closer and...

She took a steadying breath. ‘Yeah. Well... I...I’m better off without him. And soon I’ll be living so far away it won’t matter one little bit that he chose his mega-wealthy boss’s daughter over me.’

She wouldn’t take cheating Jason back in a million years. But sometimes it was difficult to keep up the bravado, mask the pain of the way he’d treated her. It was a particular kind of heartbreak to be presented with a fait accompli and no opportunity to make things right. It made it very difficult for her to risk her heart again.

‘Still hurts, huh?’ Ben said, obviously not fooled by her words.

She remembered how he’d used to tease her about her feelings always showing on her face.

She shook her head. After a lacklustre love life she’d thought she’d got things right with Jason. But she wasn’t going to admit to Ben that Jason had proved to be another disappointment.

‘You talk the talk, Sandy,’ Jason had said. ‘But you always held back, were never really there for me.’

She couldn’t see the truth in that—would never have committed to living with Jason if she hadn’t believed she loved him. If she hadn’t believed he would change his mind about marriage.

‘Only my pride was hurt,’ she said now to Ben. ‘Things between us weren’t right for a long time. I wasn’t happy, and he obviously wasn’t either. It had to end somehow....’ She took a deep breath. ‘And here I am, making a fresh start.’ She nodded decisively. ‘Now, that’s enough about me. Tell me more about your aunt Ida.’

‘Sure,’ he said, glad for the change in subject. ‘Ida got married to her wayfaring sailor on some exotic island somewhere and sailed around the world with him on his yacht until he died. Then she came back here and started the bookshop—first at the other end of town and now in the row of new shops I built.’

‘So you’re her landlord?’

‘The other guy was ripping her off on her rent.’

And Ben always looked after his own.

Sandy remembered how fiercely protective he’d been of his family. How stubbornly loyal. He would have been just as protective of his wife and son.

No wonder he had gone away when he’d lost them. What had brought him back to Dolphin Bay, with its tragic memories?

He turned to face her, his face composed, no hint from his expression that he might have been about to kiss her just minutes ago.

‘It was good of you to play along with me to make her happy. I just had to get her into that ambulance and on her way. Thank you.’

She shrugged. ‘No problem. I’d like someone to do the same for my grandmother.’

He glanced down at his watch. ‘Now you’d better go have your lunch before they close down the kitchen. Sorry I can’t join you, but—’

‘But what?’ Sandy tilted her head to one side. She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘Am I missing something here? Aren’t you meant to be showing me the bookshop?’

Ben swivelled back to face her. He frowned. ‘Why would you want to see the bookshop?’

‘Because I’ve volunteered to look after it for your aunt until you find someone else. I promised. Remember? Crossed my heart and—’

He cut across her words. ‘But that wasn’t serious. That was just you playing along with me so she’d go to the hospital. Just a tactic...’

Vehemently, she shook her head. ‘A tactic? No it wasn’t. I meant it, Ben. I said I’d help out for a few days and I keep my word.’

‘But don’t you have an interview in Melbourne?’

‘Not until next Friday, and today’s only Saturday. I was planning on meandering slowly down the coast...’

She thought regretfully of the health spa she’d hoped to check in to for a few days of much needed pampering. Then she thought of the concern in Ida’s eyes.

‘But it’s okay. I’m happy to play bookshop for a while. Really.’

‘There’s no need to stay, Sandy. It won’t be a problem to close the shop for a few days until I find a temporary manager.’

‘That’s not what your aunt thinks,’ she said. ‘Besides, it might be useful for my interview to say I’ve been managing a shop.’ She did the quote thing again with her fingers. ‘“Recent retail experience”—yes, that would look good on my résumé.’ An update on her university holiday jobs working in department stores.

Ben was so tight-lipped he was bordering on grim. ‘Sandy, it’s nice of you, but forget it. I’ll find someone. There are agencies for emergency staff.’

Why was he so reluctant to accept such an easy solution to his aunt’s dilemma? Especially when he’d been the one to suggest it?

It wasn’t fair to blame her for not being aware of his ‘tactic’. And she wasn’t—repeat wasn’t—going to let his lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of her working in the bookshop daunt her.

Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. ‘Ben, I gave my word to your great-aunt and I intend to keep it.’

She looked to the doorway of Bay Books. Forced her voice to sound steady. ‘C’mon, show me around. I’m dying to see inside.’

Ben hesitated. He took a step forward and then stopped. His face reminded her of those storm clouds that had banked up on the horizon.

Sandy sighed out loud. She made her voice mock scolding. ‘Ben, I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes if you have to tell your aunt I skipped out on her.’

His jaw clenched. He looked at her without speaking for a long second. ‘Is that blackmail, Sandy?’

She couldn’t help a smile. ‘Not really. But, like I said, if I make a promise I keep it.’

‘Do you?’ he asked hoarsely.

The smile froze on her face.

Ben stood, his hands clenched by his sides. Was he remembering those passionately sworn promises to keep their love alive even though she was going back to Sydney at the end of her holiday?

Promises she hadn’t kept because she’d never heard from him? And she’d been too young, too scared, to take the initiative herself.

She’d been wrong not to persist in trying to keep in touch with him. Wrong not to have trusted him. Now she could see that. Twelve years too late she could see that.

‘Yes,’ she said abruptly and—unable to face him—turned on her heel. ‘C’mon, I need to check out the displays and you need to show me how to work the register and what to do about special orders and all that kind of stuff.’

She knew she was chattering too quickly, but she had to cover the sudden awkwardness between them.

She braced herself and looked back over her shoulder. Was he just going to stay standing on the footpath, looking so forbidding?

No. With an exhaled sigh that she hoped was more exasperated than angry, he followed her through the door of Bay Books.

* * *

As Ben walked behind Sandy—forcing himself not to be distracted by the sway of her shapely behind—he cursed himself for being such an idiot. His impulsive ploy to placate Idy with a white lie about Sandy staying to help out had backfired badly.

How could he have forgotten just what a thoughtful, generous person Sandy could be? In that way she hadn’t changed since she was eighteen, insisting on helping his mother wash the dishes at the guesthouse even though she’d been a paying guest.

Of course Sandy wouldn’t lie to his great-aunt. He should have realised that. And now here she was, insisting on honouring her ‘promise’.

The trouble was, the last thing he wanted was his old girlfriend in town, reminding him of what he’d once felt for her. What he didn’t want to feel again. Not for her. Not for anyone.

Point-blank, he did not want Sandy helping out at Bay Books. Did not want to be faced by her positive get-up-and-go-for-it attitude, her infectious laugh and—he couldn’t deny it—her lovely face and sexier-than-ever body.

He gritted his teeth and determined not to fall victim to her charm.

But as she moved through the store he couldn’t help but be moved by her unfeigned delight in what some people called his great-aunt’s latest folly.

He saw the familiar surrounds afresh through her eyes—the wooden bookcases with their frolicking dolphin borders, the magnificent carved wooden counter, the round tables covered in heavy fringed cloths and stacked with books both bestsellers and more off-beat choices, the lamps thoughtfully positioned, the exotic carpets, the promotional posters artfully displayed, the popular children’s corner.

‘I love it—I just love it,’ she breathed. ‘This is how a bookshop should be. Small. Intimate. Connected to its customers.’

Reverently, she stroked the smooth wooden surface of the countertop, caressed with slender pink-tipped fingers the intricate carved dolphins that supported each corner.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘It’s different, all right. On her travels Aunt Ida became good friends with a family of Balinese woodcarvers. She commissioned them to fit out the shop. Had all this shipped over.’

Sandy looked around her, her eyes huge with wonder. ‘It’s unique. Awesome. No wonder your aunt wants it in safe hands.’

Some people might find the shop too quaint. Old-fashioned in a world of minimalist steel and glass. Redundant at a time of electronic everything. But obviously not Sandy. He might have expected she’d appreciate Aunt Ida’s eccentric creation. Just as she’d loved his family’s old guesthouse.

She twirled around in the space between the counter and a crammed display of travel paperbacks.

‘It even smells wonderful in here. The wood, of course. And that special smell of books. I don’t know what it is—the paper, the binding.’ She closed her eyes and inhaled with a look of ecstasy. ‘I could just breathe it in all day.’

No.

His fists clenched tight by his sides. That was not what he wanted to hear. He didn’t want Sandy to fit back in here to Dolphin Bay as if she’d never left.

He wanted her gone, back on that highway and heading south. Not connecting so intuitively with the magic his great-aunt had tried to create here. Not being part of his life just by her very presence.

How could he bear to have her practically next door? Every day she’d be calling on him to ask advice on how to run the shop. Seeking his help. Needing him.

And he wouldn’t be able to resist helping her. Might even find himself looking in on the off chance that she needed some assistance with Aunt Ida’s oddball accounting methods. Maybe bringing her a coffee from the hotel café. Suggesting they chat about the business over lunch.

That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it happen. He needed his life to stay just the way it was. He didn’t want to invite love into his life again. And with Sandy there would be no second measures.

Sandy threw herself down on the low, overstuffed sofa his aunt provided for customers to sit on and browse through the books, then jumped up again almost straight away. She clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. ‘It’s perfect. I am so going to enjoy myself here.’

‘It’s only for a few days,’ he warned. ‘I’ll talk to the agency straight away.’ Again his voice was harsher than he’d intended, edged with fear.

She frowned and he winced at the quick flash of hurt in her eyes. She paused. Her voice was several degrees cooler when she replied.

‘I know that, Ben. I’m just helping out until you get a manager. And I’m glad I can, now that I see how much of her heart your aunt has put into her shop.’

Avoiding his eyes, she stepped behind the counter, placed her hands on the countertop and looked around her. Despite his lack of encouragement, there was an eagerness, an excitement about her that he found disconcerting. And way too appealing.

She pressed her lips firmly together. ‘I’ll try not to bother you too much,’ she said. ‘But I’ll need your help with operating the register. Oh, and the computer, too. Is all her inventory in special files?’

He knew he should show some gratitude for her helping out. After all, he’d been the one to make the ill-conceived suggestion that she should stay. But he was finding it difficult when he knew how dangerous it might be to have Sandy around. Until now he’d been keeping everything together in his under-control life. Or so he’d thought.

‘I can show you the register,’ he said grudgingly. ‘The computer—that’s a mystery. But you won’t be needing to operate that. And, besides, it’s only temporary, right?’

‘Yeah. Very temporary—as you keep reminding me.’

This time she met his gaze head-on.

‘But what makes you think I won’t want to do as good a job as I can for your aunt Ida while I’m here? You heard what she said about needing every day of business.’

‘I would look after her if she got into trouble.’

The truth was he didn’t need the rent his great-aunt insisted on paying him. Could easily settle her overheads.

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to be looked after? Maybe she wants to be totally independent. I hope I’ll be the same when I’m her age.’

Sandy at seventy-five years old? A quick image came to him of her with white hair, all skewered up in a bun on top of her head, and every bit as feisty as his great-aunt.

‘I’m sure you will be,’ he said, and he forced himself not to smile at the oddly endearing thought. Or, by way of comparison, look too appreciatively at the beautiful woman who was Sandy now, on her thirtieth birthday.

‘What about paying the bills?’ she asked.

‘I’ll take care of that.’

‘In other words,’ she said with a wry twist to her mouth, ‘don’t forget that I’m just a temporary caretaker?’

‘Something like that,’ he agreed, determined not to make it easy for her. Though somewhere, hidden deep behind the armour he wore around his feelings, he wished he didn’t have to act so tough. But if he didn’t protect himself he might fall apart—and he couldn’t risk that.

She looked up at him, her expression both teasing and serious at the same time. But her voice wasn’t as confident as it had been. There was a slight betraying quiver that wrenched at him.

‘You know something, Ben? I’m beginning to think you don’t want me in Dolphin Bay,’ she said, her eyes huge, her luscious mouth trembling. She took a deep breath. ‘Am I right?’

He stared at her, totally unable to say anything.

Images flashed through his mind like frames from a flickering cinema screen.

Sandy at that long-ago surf club dance, her long hair flying around her, laughing as she and her sister tried to mimic Kate’s outrageously sexy dancing, smiling shyly when she noticed him watching her.

Sandy breathless and trembling in his arms as he kissed her for the first time.

Sandy in the tiniest of bikinis, overcoming her fear to bravely paddle out on her body-board to meet him where the big waves were breaking.

Sandy, her eyes red and her face blotchy and tear-stained, running to him again and again to hurl herself in his arms for just one more farewell kiss as her father impatiently honked the horn on the family car taking her back to Sydney.

Then nothing. Nothing.

Until now.

He fisted his hands so tightly it hurt the harsh edges of the scars. Scars that were constant reminders of the agony of his loss.

How in hell could he answer her question?

CHAPTER FOUR

HE SAID SHE showed her emotions on her face? She didn’t need a PhD in psychology to read his, either. It was only too apparent he was just buying time before spilling the words he knew she wouldn’t want to hear.

For an interminable moment he said nothing. Shifted his weight from foot to foot. Then he uttered just one drawn-out word. ‘Well...’

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Sandy swallowed hard against the sudden, unexpected shaft of hurt. Forced her voice to sound casual, light-hearted. ‘Hey, I was joking, but...but you’re serious. You really don’t want me around, do you?’

She pushed the rain-damp hair away from her face with fingers that weren’t quite steady. Gripped the edge of the countertop hard, willing the trembling to stop.

When he finally spoke his face was impassive, his voice schooled, his eyes shuttered. ‘You’re right. I don’t think it’s a great idea.’

She couldn’t have felt worse if he’d slapped her. She fought the flush of humiliation that burned her cheeks. Forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching. ‘Why? Because we dated when we were kids?’

‘As soon as people make the connection that you’re my old girlfriend there’ll be gossip, speculation. I don’t want that.’

She swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat, forced the words out. ‘Because of your...because of Jodi?’

‘That too.’

The counter was a barrier between them but he was close. Touching distance close. So close she could smell the salty, clean scent of him—suddenly heart-achingly familiar. After their youthful making out sessions all those years ago she had relished the smell of him on her, his skin on her skin, his mouth on her mouth. Hadn’t wanted ever to shower it away.

‘But...mainly because of me.’

His words were so quiet she had to strain to hear them over the noise of the rain on the metal roof above.

Bewildered, she shook her head. ‘Because of you? I don’t get it.’

‘Because things are different, Sandy. It isn’t only the town that’s changed.’

His voice was even. Too even. She sensed it was a struggle for him to keep it under control.

He turned his broad shoulders so he looked past her and through the shop window, into the distance towards the bay as he spoke. ‘Did Kate tell you everything about the fire that killed Jodi and my son, Liam?’

‘No.’ Sandy shook her head, suddenly dreading what she might hear. Not sure she could cope with it. Her knees felt suddenly shaky, and she leaned against the countertop for support.

Ben turned back to her and she gasped at the anguish he made no effort to mask.

‘He was only a baby, Sandy, not even a year old. I couldn’t save them. I was in the volunteer fire service and I was off fighting a blaze somewhere else. Everything was tinder-dry from years of drought. We thought Dolphin Bay was safe, but the wind turned. Those big gum trees near the guesthouse caught alight. And then the building. The guests got out. But...but not...’ His head dropped as his words faltered.

He’d said before that he didn’t want to talk about his tragedy—now it was obvious he couldn’t find any more words. With a sudden aching realisation she knew it would never get easier for him.

‘Don’t,’ she murmured, feeling beyond terrible that she’d forced him to relive those unbearable moments. She put her hand up to halt him, maybe to touch him, then let it drop again. ‘You don’t have to tell me any more.’

Big raindrops sat on his eyelashes like tears. She ached to wipe them away. To do something, anything, to comfort him.

But he’d just said he didn’t want her here in town.

He raised his head to face her again. ‘I lost everything that day,’ he said, his eyes bleak. ‘I have nothing to give you.’

She swallowed hard, glanced again at the scars on his hands, imagined him desperately trying to reach his wife and child in the burning guesthouse before it was too late. She realised there were scars where she couldn’t see them. Worse scars than the visible ones.

‘I’m not asking anything of you, Ben. Just maybe to be...to be friends.’

She couldn’t stop her voice from breaking—was glad the rain meant they had the bookshop all to themselves. That no one could overhear their conversation.

He turned his tortured gaze full on to her and she flinched before it.

The words were torn from him. ‘Friends? Can you really be “just friends” with someone you once loved?’

She picked up a shiny hardback from the pile to the left of her on the counter, put it back without registering the title. Then she turned back to face him. Took a deep breath. ‘Was it really love? We were just kids.’

‘It was for me,’ he said, his voice gruff and very serious, his hands clenched tightly by his sides. ‘It hurt that you never answered my letters, never got in touch.’

‘It hurt me that you never wrote like you said you would,’ she breathed, remembering as if it were yesterday the anguish of his rejection. Oh, yes, it had been love for her too.

But a small voice deep inside whispered that perhaps she had got over him faster than he had got over her. She’d never forgotten him but she’d moved on, and the memories of her first serious crush had become fainter and fainter. Sometimes it had seemed as though Ben and the times she’d had with him at Dolphin Bay had been a kind of dream.

She hadn’t fully appreciated then what was apparent now—Ben wasn’t a player, like Jason or her father. When he loved, he loved for keeps. In the intervening years she’d been attracted to men who reminded her of him and been bitterly disappointed when they fell short. She could see now there was only one man like Ben.

They both spoke at the same time.

‘Why—?’

‘Why—?’

Then answered at the same time.

‘My father—’

‘Your father—’

Sandy gave a short nervous laugh. ‘And my mother, too,’ she added, turning away from him, looking down at a display of mini-books of inspirational thoughts, shuffling them backwards and forwards. ‘She told me not to chase after you when you were so obviously not interested. Even my sister, Lizzie, got fed up with me crying over you and told me to get over it and move on.’

‘My dad said the same thing about you. That you had your own life in the city. That you wouldn’t give me a thought when you were back in the bright lights. That we were too young, anyway.’ He snorted. ‘Too young. He and my mother got married when they were only a year older than I was then.’

She looked up to face him. ‘I phoned the guesthouse, you know, but your father answered. I was too chicken to speak to him, though I suspect he knew it was me. He told me not to call again.’

‘He never said.’

Sandy could hear the beating of her own heart over the sound of the rain on the roof. ‘We were young. Maybe too young to doubt them—or defy them.’

An awkward silence—a silence choked by the echoes of words unspoken, of kisses unfulfilled—fell between them until finally she knew she had to be the one to break it.

‘I wonder what would have happened if we had—’

‘Don’t go there, Sandy,’ he said.

She took a step back from his sudden vehemence, banging her hip on the wooden fin of a carved dolphin. But she scarcely felt the pain.

‘Never torture yourself with what if? and if only,’ he continued. ‘Remember what you said? Water under the bridge.’

‘It...it was a long time ago.’

She didn’t know what else she could say. Couldn’t face thinking of the ‘what ifs?’ Ben must have struggled with after the fire.

While he was recalling anguish and irredeemable loss, she was desperately fighting off the memories of how much fun they’d had together all those years ago.

She’d been so serious, so strait-laced, so under her father’s thumb. For heaven’s sake, she’d been old enough to vote but had never stayed out after midnight. Ben had helped her lighten up, take risks—be reckless, even. All the time knowing he’d be there for her if she stumbled.

He hadn’t been a bad boy by any means, but he’d been an exciting boy—an irreverent boy who’d thumbed his nose at her father’s old-fashioned edicts and made her question the ways she’d taken for granted. So many times she’d snuck out to meet him after dark, her heart thundering with both fear of what would happen if she were caught and anticipation of being alone with him.

How good it had felt when he’d kissed her—kissed her at any opportunity when they could be by themselves. How his kisses, his caresses, had stirred her body, awakening yearnings she hadn’t known she was capable of.

Yearnings she’d never felt as strongly since. Not even for Jason.

Saying no to going all the way with Ben that summer was one of the real regrets of her life. Losing her virginity to him would have been an unforgettable experience. How could it not have been when their passion had been so strong?

She couldn’t help remembering their last kiss—with her father about to drag her into the car—fired by unfulfilled passion and made more poignant in retrospect because she’d had no idea that it would be her last kiss from Ben.

Did he remember it too?

She searched his face, but he seemed immersed in his own dark thoughts.

Wearily, she wiped her hand over her forehead as if she could conjure up answers. Why had those kisses been printed so indelibly on her memory? Unleashed passion? Hormones? Pheromones? Was it the magic of first love? Or was it a unique power that came only from Ben?

Ben who had grown into this intense, unreadable, tormented man whom she could not even pretend to know any more.

The rain continued to fall. It muffled the sound of the cars swishing by outside the bookshop, made it seem as if they were in their own world, cocooned by their memories from the reality of everyday life in Dolphin Bay. From all that had happened in the twelve years since they’d last met.

Ben cleared his throat, leaned a little closer to her over the barrier of the counter.

‘I’m glad you told me you never got my letters, that you tried to phone,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘I never understood how you could just walk away from what we had.’

‘Me too. I never understood how you didn’t want to see me again, I mean.’

She thought of the tears she’d wept into her pillow all those years ago. How abandoned she’d felt. How achingly lonely. Even the agony of Jason’s betrayal hadn’t come near it.

Then she forced her thoughts to return to today. To Ben’s insistence that he didn’t want her hanging around Dolphin Bay, even to help his injured aunt at a time of real need for the old lady.

It was beyond hurtful.

Consciously, she straightened her shoulders. She forced a brave, unconcerned edge to her voice. ‘But now we know the wrong my father did maybe we can forget old hurts and...and feel some kind of closure.’

‘Closure?’ Ben stared at her. ‘What kind of psychobabble is that?’

Psychobabble? She felt rebuffed by his response. She’d actually thought ‘closure’ was a very well-chosen word. Under the circumstances.

‘What I mean is...maybe we can try to be friends? Forgive the past. Forget there was anything else between us?’

She was lying. Oh, how she was lying.

While her mind dictated emotion-free words like ‘closure’ and ‘friends’ her body was shouting out that she found him every bit as desirable as she had twelve years ago. More so.

Just months ago—when she’d still had a job—she’d worked on a campaign for a hot teen surf clothing label. Ben at nineteen would have been perfectly cast in the lead male role, surrounded by adoring bikini-clad girls.

Now, Ben at thirty-one could star as a hunky action man in any number of very grown-up commercials. His face was only improved by his cropped hair, the deep tan, the slight crinkles around his eyes and that intriguing scar on his mouth. His damp shirt moulded to a muscled chest and powerful shoulders and arms.

Now they were both adults. Experienced adults. She’d been the world’s most inexperienced eighteen-year-old. What would she feel if she kissed him now? A shudder ran deep inside her. There would be no stopping at kisses, that was for sure.

‘You may be able to forget we were more than friends but I can’t,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I still find you very attractive.’

So he felt it too.

Something so powerful that twelve years had done nothing to erode it.

Her heart did that flippy thing again, over and over, stealing her breath, her composure. Before she could stutter out something in response he continued.

‘That’s why I don’t want you in Dolphin Bay.’

She gasped at his bluntness.

‘I don’t mean to sound rude,’ he said. ‘I...I just can’t deal with having you around.’

What could she say in response? For all her skill as an award-winning copywriter, she couldn’t find the right words in the face of such raw anguish. All she could do was nod.

That vein throbbed at his temple. ‘I don’t want to be reminded of what it was like to...to have feelings for someone when I can’t...don’t want to ever feel like that again.’

The pain behind his confession made her catch her breath in another gasp. It overwhelmed the brief flash of pleasure she’d felt that he still found her attractive. And it hurt that he was so pointedly rejecting her.

‘Right,’ she said.

Such an inadequate word. Woefully inadequate.

‘Right,’ she repeated. She cleared her throat. Looked anywhere but at him. ‘I hear what you’re saying. Loud and clear.’

‘I’m sorry, I—’

She put up her hand in a halt sign. ‘Don’t be. I...I appreciate your honesty.’

Her heart went out to him. Not in pity but in empathy. She had known pain. Not the kind of agony he’d endured, but pain just the same. Her parents’ divorce. Jason’s callous dumping. Betrayal by the friends who’d chosen to be on Jason’s side in the break-up and had accepted invitations to today’s wedding of the year at St Mark’s, Darling Point, the Sydney church famed for society weddings.

But the philosophy she’d evolved in those years when she’d been fighting her father’s blockade on letting her lead a normal teenage life had been to refuse to let hurt and disappointment hold her back for long. She now firmly believed that good things were always around the corner. That light always followed darkness. But you had to take steps to invite that light into your life. As she had in planning to leave all the reminders of her life with Jason behind her.

Ben had suffered a tragedy she could not even begin to imagine. Would he ever be able to move out of the shadows?

‘Honesty is best all round,’ he said, the jagged edge to his voice giving a terrible sincerity to the cliché.

She gritted her teeth against the thought of all Ben had endured since they’d last met, the damage it had done to him. And yet...

From what she remembered of sweet-faced Jodi Hart, she couldn’t imagine she would want to see the husband she’d loved wrapping himself in a shroud of grief and self-blame, not allowing himself ever again to feel happiness or love.

But it was not for her to make that judgement. She, too, belonged to Ben’s yesterday, and that was where he seemed determined to keep her. He did not want to be part of her tomorrow in any way.

If only she could stop wondering if the magic would still be there for them...if they could both overcome past hurts enough to try.

She had to force herself not to sigh out loud. The attraction she felt for him was still there, would never go away. It was a longing so powerful it hurt.

‘Now I know where I stand,’ she said, summoning the strength to make her voice sound normal.

He was right. It was best to get it up-front. Ben was not for her. Not any more. The barriers he had up against her were so entrenched they were almost visible.

But in spite of it all she refused to regret her impulsive decision to return to Dolphin Bay. It was healing to meet up with Ben and discover that he hadn’t, after all, heartlessly ditched her all those years ago. Coming after the Jason fiasco, that revelation was a great boost to her self-esteem.

She forced a smile. ‘That’s sorted, then. Let’s get back on track. Tell me more about Bay Books. I’m going to be the best darn temporary manager you’ll ever see.’

‘So long as you know it’s just that. Temporary.’

She nodded. She could do this. After all, she loved reading and she loved books—e-books, audiobooks, but especially the real thing. Added to that, the experience of looking after the bookshop might help her snag the candle store franchise. Maybe her reckless promise to Ida might turn out to benefit herself as much as Ben’s great-aunt.

Yes, making that swift exit off the highway this morning had definitely been a good idea. But in five days she would get back into her green Beetle and put Dolphin Bay and Ben Morgan behind her again.

Five days of wanting Ben but knowing it could never be.

Five days to eradicate the yearning, once and for all.

But the cup-half-full part of her bobbed irrepressibly to the surface. There was one other way to look at it: five days to convince him they should be friends again. And after that who knew?

CHAPTER FIVE

BEN WATCHED THE emotions as they played across Sandy’s face. Finally her expression settled at something between optimistic and cheerful.

He might have been fooled if he hadn’t noticed the tight grip of her hands on the edge of the countertop. Even after all these years and a high-powered job in advertising she hadn’t learned to mask her feelings.

He had hurt her. Hurt her with his blunt statements. Hurt her with his rejection of her friendship, his harsh determination to protect himself from her and the feelings she evoked.

He hated to cause her pain. He would fight with his fists anyone who dared to injure her in any way. But he had to be up-front. She had to know the score. The fire had changed him, snatched his life from him, forged a different person from the one Sandy remembered. He had nothing left to give her.

Her eyes were guarded, the shadows beneath them more deeply etched. She tilted her head to one side. A wispy lock of rain-damp hair fell across her face. He had to force himself not to reach out and tenderly push it aside, as he would have done twelve years ago.

She took a deep breath and again he couldn’t help but appreciate the enticing swell of her breasts. She’d been sizzling at eighteen. As a woman of thirty she was sexual dynamite. Ignite it and he was done for.

Finally she spoke. ‘Okay, so maybe promising to help your aunt wasn’t such a great idea. But I crossed my heart. I’m here in Dolphin Bay. Whether you like it or not.’

Her lovely pink-stained mouth trembled and she bit down firmly on her lower lip. She blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears, sending a wrenching shaft of pain straight to his heart.

She choked out her words. ‘Don’t be angry at me for insisting on staying. I couldn’t bear that.’

‘Like I’d do that, Sandy. Surely you know me better?’

She shook her head slowly from side to side. Her voice broke like static. ‘Ben, I don’t know you at all any more.’

A bruised silence fell between them. He was powerless to do anything to end it. Each breath felt like an effort.

Sandy’s shoulders were hunched somewhere around her ears. He watched her make an effort to pull them down.

‘If you don’t want to be friends, where does that put us?’

‘Seems to me we’re old friends who’ve moved on but who have been thrown together by circumstance. Can’t we leave it at that?’

Before she had a chance to mask it, disappointment clouded her eyes. She looked away. It was a long moment before she nodded and looked back up at him. Her voice was resolute, as if she were closing on a business deal, with only the slightest tremor to betray her. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. We’ll be grown-up about this. Passing polite for the next five days. Is that the deal?’

She offered him her hand to shake.

He looked at it for a long moment, at her narrow wrist and slender fingers. Touching Sandy wasn’t a good idea. Not after all these years. Not when he remembered too well how good she’d felt in his arms. How much he wanted her—had always wanted her.

He hesitated a moment too long and she dropped her hand back by her side.

He’d hurt her again. He gritted his teeth. What kind of a man was he that he couldn’t shake her hand?

‘That’s settled, then,’ she said, her voice brisk and businesslike, her eyes not meeting his. ‘By the way, I’ll need somewhere to sleep. Any suggestions?’

Wham! What kind of sucker punch was that? His reaction was instant—raw, physical hunger for her. Hunger so powerful it knocked him for six.

He knew what he ached to say. You can sleep in my bed. With me. Naked, with your legs twined around mine. On top of me. Beneath me. With your face flushed with desire and your heart racing with passion. Sleep with me so we can finish what we started so long ago.

Instead he clenched his fists by his sides, looked somewhere over her head so he wouldn’t have to see her face. He couldn’t let her guess the thoughts that were taking over his mind and body.

‘You’ll be my guest at the hotel. I’ll organise a room for you as soon as I get back.’

She put up her hand. ‘But that won’t be necessary. I—’

He cut short her protest. ‘No buts. You’re helping my family. You don’t pay for accommodation. You’ll go in a penthouse suite.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m happy to pay, but if you insist—’

‘I insist.’ He realised, with some relief, that the rain had stopped pelting on the roof. ‘The weather has let up. We’ll get you checked in now.’

The twist to her mouth conceded defeat, although he suspected the argument was far from over. Like Idy, she was fiercely independent. Back then she’d always insisted on paying her way on their dates. Even if she only matched him ice cream for ice cream or soft drink for soft drink.

‘Okay. Thanks. I’ll just grab my handbag and—’ She felt around on the counter, looked around her in panic. ‘My bag!’

‘It’s at Reception. Kate picked it up.’

Kate, her eyes wide with interest and speculation, had whispered to him as they were helping Ida into the ambulance. She said Sandy had been in such a hurry to follow him out of the restaurant and onto the sand she’d left her bag behind.

Kate obviously saw that as significant. He wondered how many people now knew his old girlfriend was back in town.

The phone calls would start soon. His mother first up. She’d liked Sandy. She’d never pried into his and his brother Jesse’s teenage love lives. But she’d be itching to know why Sandy was back in town.

And he’d wager that Sandy would have a stream of customers visiting Bay Books. Customers whose interest was anything but literary.

Sandy went to move from behind the counter.

‘Sandy, before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

She frowned. ‘Yes?’

He’d been unforgivably ill-mannered not to shake her hand just to avoid physical contact. So what inexplicable force made him now lean towards her and lightly brush his thumb over her mouth where it was stained that impossibly bright pink? He could easily tell her what he had to without touching her.

His pulse accelerated a gear at the soft, yielding feel of her lips, the warm female scent of her. She quivered in awareness of his touch, then stood very still, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.

He didn’t want her around. Didn’t want her warmth, her laughter, falling on his heart like drops of water on a spiky-leaved plant so parched it was in danger of dying. A plant that needed the sun, the life-giving rain, but felt safe and comfortable existing in the shadows, living a half-life that until now had seemed enough.

‘Sandy....’ There was so much more he wanted to say. But couldn’t.

She looked mutely back at him.

He drew a deep, ragged breath. Cleared his throat. Forced his voice into its usual tone, aware that it came out gruffer but unable to do anything about it.

‘I don’t know if this is the latest city girl look, but your mouth...it’s kinda pink in the middle. You might want to fix it.’

She froze, then her hand shot to her mouth. ‘What do you mean? I don’t use pink lipstick.’

Without saying a word he walked around to her side of the counter and pulled out a drawer. He handed her the mirror his aunt always kept there.

Sandy looked at her image. She stared. She shrieked. ‘That’s the ink from my niece Amy’s feather pen!’

It was difficult not to grin at her reaction.

Then she glared at him, her eyes sparking, though she looked about as ferocious as one of the stray puppies his mother fostered. ‘You! You let me go around all this time looking like this? Why didn’t you tell me?’

He shrugged, finding it hard not show his amusement at her outraged expression. ‘How was I to know it wasn’t some fashion thing? I’ve seen girls wearing black nail polish that looks like bruises.’

‘But this...’ She wiped her hand ineffectively across her mouth. ‘This! I look like a circus clown.’

He shrugged. ‘I think it’s kinda cute. In a...circusy kind of way.’

‘You!’ She scrutinised her image and scrubbed hard at her mouth.

Now her lips looked all pouty and swollen, like they’d used to after their marathon teen making out sessions. He had to look away. To force himself not to remember.

She glared again. ‘Don’t you ever, ever let me go out in public again looking weird, okay?’

‘I said cute, not weird. But okay.’ He couldn’t help his mouth from lifting into a grin.

Her eyes narrowed into accusing slits. ‘Are you laughing at me, Ben Morgan?’

‘Never,’ he said, totally negating his words by laughing.

She tried, but she couldn’t sustain the glare. Her mouth quirked into a grin that spilled into laughter chiming alongside his.

After all the angst of the morning it felt good to laugh. Again he felt something shifting and stirring deep inside the seized and rusted engine of his emotions. He didn’t want it to fire into life again. That way led to pain and anguish. But already Sandy’s laughter, her scent, her unexpected presence again in his life, was like the slow drip-drip-drip of some powerful repair oil.

‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘While the rain’s stopped let’s get you checked into the hotel. Then I have to get back to work.’

As he pulled the door of Bay Books closed behind him he found himself pursing his mouth to whistle. A few broken bars of sound escaped before he clamped down on them. He glanced to see if Sandy had noticed, but her eyes were focused on the street ahead.

He hadn’t whistled for years.

CHAPTER SIX

SANDY SAT IN her guest room at Hotel Hideous, planning a new list. She shivered and hugged her arms to herself. The room was air conditioned to the hilt. There was no stinting on luxury in the modern, tasteful furnishings. She loved the dolphin motif that was woven into the bedcover and decorative pillows, and repeated discreetly on the borders of the curtains. And the view across the old harbour and the bay was beyond magnificent.

But it wasn’t a patch on the charm of the old guesthouse. Who could have believed the lovely building would come to such a tragic end? She shuddered at the thought of what Ben had endured. Was she foolish to imagine that he could ever get over his terrible losses? Ever be able to let himself love again?

She forced herself to concentrate as she turned a new page of her fairy notebook. The pretty pink pen had been relegated to the depths of her handbag. She didn’t have the heart to throw Amy’s gift in the bin, even though she could never use it again.

She still burned at the thought of not just Ben but Kate, Ida and who-knew-who-else seeing her with the hot pink stain on her mouth. It was hardly the sophisticated image she’d thought she was putting across. Thankfully, several minutes of scrubbing with a toothbrush had eliminated the stain.

But maybe the ink stain had, in a roundabout way, served a purpose. Thoughtfully, she stroked her lip with her finger, where Ben’s thumb had been. After all, hadn’t the stain induced Ben to break out of his self-imposed cage and actually touch her?

She took a pen stamped with the Hotel Harbourside logo—which, of course, incorporated a dolphin—from the desk in front of her and started to write—this time in regulation blue ink.

1. Reschedule birthday celebrations.

No.

Postpone indefinitely.

Was turning thirty, with her life such a mess, actually cause for celebration anyway? Maybe it was best left unmarked. She could hope for better next year.

2. Congratulate self for not thinking once about The Wedding.

She scored through the T and the W to make them lower case. It was her friends who had dramatised the occasion with capital letters. Her so-called friends who’d gone over to the dark side and accepted their invitations.

She could thank Ben’s aunt Ida for pushing all thoughts of That-Jerk-Jason and his lucrative trip down the aisle out of her mind.

Or—and she must be honest—was it really Ida who’d distracted her?

She realised she was gnawing the top of the pen.

3. Quit chewing on pens for once and for all. Especially pens that belong to first love.

First love now determined not even to be friends.

Which brought her to the real issue.

4. Forget Ben Morgan.

She stabbed it into the paper.

Forget the shivery delight that had coursed through her when his finger had traced the outline of her mouth. Forget how he’d looked when he had laughed—laughed at her crazy pink ink stain—forget the light in his eyes, the warmth of his smile. Forget the stupid, illogical hope that sprang into her heart when they joked together like in old times.

She slammed the notebook shut, sending glitter shimmering over the desk. Opened it again. She underscored the last words.

Then got on to the next item.

5. Visit Ida and get info on running bookshop.

She had to open Bay Books tomorrow and she didn’t have a clue what she should be doing. This was scary stuff.

She leaned back in her chair to think about the questions she should ask the older lady when the buzzer to her room sounded.

‘Who is it?’ she called out, slamming her notebook shut again in a flurry of glitter.

‘Ben.’

In spite of her resolutions her heart leaped at the sound of his voice. ‘Just give me a second,’ she called.

Her hands flew to her face, then smoothed her still-damp-from-the-shower hair. She tightened the belt on the white towelling hotel bathrobe. She ran her tongue around suddenly dry lips before she fumbled with the latch and opened the door.

Ben filled the doorway with his broad shoulders and impressive height. Her heart tripped into double time at the sight of him. He had changed into jeans and a blue striped shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Could any man be more handsome?

She stuttered out a greeting, noticed he held a large brown paper grocery bag in one hand.

He thrust the bag at her. ‘For you. I’m not good at gift wrapping.’

She looked from the bag up to him. ‘Gift wrapping?’

‘I feel bad your birthday turned out like this.’

‘This is a birthday gift?’

He shrugged. ‘A token.’

She flushed, pleased beyond measure at his thoughtfulness. ‘I like surprises. Thank you.’

Not sure what to expect, she delved into the bag. It was jam-packed with Snickers bars. ‘Ohmigod!’ she exclaimed in delighted disbelief.

He shifted from foot to foot. ‘You used to like them.’

She smiled at him. ‘I still do. They’re my favourite.’

She didn’t have the heart to add that when she was eighteen she’d been able to devour the chocolate bars by the dozen without gaining weight, but that at thirty they were an occasional indulgence.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have given me anything I’d like more.’

She wasn’t lying.

Ben’s thoughtfully chosen gift in a brown paper bag was way more valuable than any of the impersonal ‘must-have’ trinkets Jason had used to choose and have gift wrapped by the shop. Her last present from him had been an accessory for her electronic tablet that he had used more than she ever had.

Her heart swelled with affection for Ben. For wounded, difficult, vulnerable Ben.

She looked up at him, aching to throw her arms around him and kiss him. Kiss him for remembering her sweet tooth. Kiss him for the simple honesty of his brown-bagged gift. Kiss him for showing her that, deep down somewhere beneath his scars and defences, her Sir Galahad on a surfboard was still there.

But she felt too wary to do so. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more rejection in one day. His words echoed in her head and in her heart: ‘I don’t want you in Dolphin Bay.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again, feeling the words were totally inadequate to express her pleasure at his gesture.

He looked pleased with himself in a very male, tell-me-again-how-clever-I-was way she found endearing.

‘I bought all the shop had—which just happened to be thirty.’

She smiled up at him. ‘The shopkeeper must have thought you were a greedy pig with a desperate addiction to chocolate.’

‘Nah. They know chilli corn chips are more to my taste.’

She hugged the bag of chocolate bars to her chest. ‘So I won’t have to share? Because you might have to fight me for them.’

‘That makes you the greedy pig,’ he said. ‘They’re all yours.’ He stood still, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Happy birthday, Sandy.’

She saw warmth mixed with wariness—which might well be a reflection of what showed in her own eyes.

Silence fell between them. She was aware of her own quickened breathing over the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Felt intoxicated by the salty, so familiar scent of him.

Now.

Surely now was the moment to kiss him? Suddenly she desperately wanted to feel his mouth—that sexy, sexy mouth—on hers. To taste again the memory that had lingered through twelve years away from him.

She felt herself start to sway towards him, her lips parting, her gaze focusing on the blue eyes that seemed to go a deeper shade of blue as he returned her gaze. Her heart was thudding so loudly surely he could hear it.

But as she moved he tensed and took an abrupt step backwards.

She froze. Rejection again. When would she learn?

She stepped back too, so hastily she was in danger of tripping backwards into the room. She wrapped her robe tighter around her, focused on the list of hotel safety instructions posted by the door rather than on him. A flush rose up her neck to sting her cheeks.

She couldn’t think of a word to say.

After an excruciatingly uncomfortable moment Ben cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been sent on a mission from Aunt Ida to find and retrieve you and take you to the hospital to meet with her.’

Sandy swallowed hard, struggled to make her voice sound light-hearted. ‘Sounds serious stuff. Presumably an urgent briefing on the Bay Books project?’

He snapped his fingers. ‘Right first guess.’

She smiled, knowing it probably looked forced but determined to appear natural—not as if just seconds ago she’d been longing for his kiss.

‘Let me guess again. She’s getting anxious about filling me in on how it all works?’

‘Correct again,’ he said. ‘I promised to return with you ASAP to complete the mission.’

‘Funnily enough I have no other pressing social engagements in Dolphin Bay.’ She turned and started to walk back into the room, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘Do you want to come in while I get dressed?’

His glance went briefly to her open neckline. He cleared his throat. ‘Not a good idea.’

She blushed even redder and clutched the robe tighter. ‘I mean... I didn’t mean...’ she stuttered.

‘How about I come back to get you in half an hour?’

Her voice came out an octave higher. ‘Twenty minutes max will be fine. Where will you be if I’m ready earlier?’

‘Downstairs in my office.’

‘Pick me up in twenty, then.’

He turned to go.

She swallowed against the sudden tension in her throat. ‘Ben?’ she said.

He swung back to face her, a question on his face.

‘Thank you for the Snickers. I won’t say I’ll treasure them for ever, because they’ll be devoured in double quick time. But...thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘It was—’

Afterwards she wondered at the impulse that had made her forget all caution, all fear of rejection. Before she could think about whether it was a good thing or not to do, propelled by pure instinct, she leaned up on her bare toes and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

Then she staggered at the impact of his closeness, at the memories that came rushing back in a flood of heat and hormones. The feel of his beard-roughened cheek beneath her lips, the strength of his tightly muscled body, the out-and-out maleness of him. She clung to him, overwhelmed by nostalgia for the past, for when she’d had the right to hold him close. How could she ever have let go of that right?

His hands grasped her shoulders to steady her. She could feel their warmth on her skin through the thick cloth of her robe. Swiftly, he released her. He muttered something inarticulate.

Reeling, she lifted her head in response, saw the shutters come down over his eyes—but not before she’d glimpsed something she couldn’t read. It could have been passion but was more likely panic.

Bad, bad idea, Sandy, she berated herself. Even a chaste peck is too much for him to handle.

Too much for you to handle.

But no way was she was going to let herself feel ashamed of a friendly thank-you kiss. She was used to spontaneous expressions of affection between friends.

She forced her breath to steady, tilted her chin upwards. ‘See you in twenty,’ she said, praying he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice.

* * *

Ben stood back and watched as Sandy talked with his great-aunt in her room at the brand new Dolphin Bay Memorial Hospital. He might have known they would hit it off.

On doctor’s orders, Ida was lying flat on her back in her hospital bed. She’d been told she had to hold that position for six weeks to heal her cracked pelvis.

Sandy had pulled up a chair beside her and was chatting away as if she and Ida were old friends.

Why, although they were talking about authors and titles of favourite books, did he sense this instant alliance could mean trouble for him? Trouble not of the business kind—hell, there was nothing he couldn’t handle there—but a feminine kind of trouble he was not as well equipped to deal with.

Sandy was laughing and gesticulating with her hands as she spoke. His aunt was laughing too. It pleased him to see a warm flush vanquishing the grey tinge of pain from her face.

‘What do you think, Ben?’ Sandy asked.

‘Me?’

‘Yes. Who is the primary customer for Bay Books?’

He shrugged. ‘People off the boats looking for something to read? Retirees?’

His aunt nodded. ‘They’re important, yes. But I sell more books to the telecommuters than to anyone else. They’re crazy for book clubs. A book club gives them human contact as an antidote to the hours they spend working away on their computers, reporting to an office somewhere miles and miles away.’

Ben rubbed his hands together in simulated glee. ‘All those people fleeing the cities, making a sea-change to live on the coast—the lifeblood of commerce in Dolphin Bay. They’re buying land, building houses, and spending their socks off.’

Sandy wrinkled up her nose in the way he remembered so well. It was just as cute on her at thirty as it had been at eighteen.

‘That seems very calculating,’ she said.

‘What do you expect from the President of the Dolphin Bay Chamber of Commerce?’ said Aunt Ida, her voice dripping with the pride all his family felt at his achievement. ‘The town has really come on under his leadership.’

Sandy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re full of surprises, Ben.’

On that so expressive face of hers he could see her wondering how he’d come from fisherman’s son to successful businessman. Her father had judged him not good enough, not wealthy enough. He’d had no idea of how much land Ben’s family owned. And Sandy didn’t know how spurred on to succeed Ben had been by the snobby older man’s low opinion of him.

‘We have a lot to catch up on,’ she said.

No.

More than ever he did not want to spend more time than was necessary with Sandy, reviving old feelings that were best left buried.

She was modestly dressed now, in a neat-fitting T-shirt and a skirt of some floaty material that covered her knees. But she’d answered the door to him at the hotel wrapped in nothing more than a Hotel Harbourside bathrobe.

As she’d spoken to him the robe had slid open to reveal the tantalising shadow between her breasts. Her face had been flushed and her hair damp. It was obvious she’d just stepped out of the shower and the thought of her naked had been almost more than his libido could take.

Naked in one of his hotel bathrooms. Naked under one of his hotel’s bathrobes. It hadn’t taken much to take the thought a step further to her naked on one of his hotel’s beds. With the hotel’s owner taking passionate possession.

He’d had to grit his teeth and force his gaze to somewhere above her head.

When she’d kissed him it had taken every ounce of his iron-clad self-control not to take her in his arms and kiss her properly. Not on the cheek but claiming her mouth, tasting her with his tongue, exploring her sexy body with hungry hands. Backing her into the room and onto the bed.

No.

There’d be no catching up on old times. Or letting his libido lead him where he had vowed not to go.

He cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t this conversation irrelevant to you running the bookstore for Aunt Ida?’

Sandy met his gaze in a way that let him know she knew only too well he was steering the conversation away from anything personal.

‘Of course. You’re absolutely right.’

She turned to face the hospital bed.

‘Ida, tell me about any special orders.’ Then she looked back at him, her head at a provocative angle. Her eyes gleamed with challenge. ‘Is that better, Mr President?’

He looked to Ida for support, but her eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Sandy and back again.

It was starting. The speculation about him and Sandy. The gossip. And it looked as if he couldn’t count on his aunt for support in his battle to protect his heart.

In fact she looked mighty pleased at the prospect of uncovering something personal between him and her temporary manager.

‘You can tell me more about your past friendship with Sandy some other time, nephew of mine,’ she said.

Sandy looked as uncomfortable as he felt, and had trouble meeting his gaze. ‘Can we get back to talking about Bay Books, Ida?’ she asked.

His aunt laughed. ‘Back to the not nearly so interesting topic of the bookshop? Okay, my dear, have you got something you can take some notes in? The special orders can get complicated.’

Looking relieved, Sandy dived into her handbag. She pulled out a luminous pink notebook and with it came a flurry of glitter that sparkled in the shafts of late-afternoon sun falling on his aunt’s hospital bed.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ she said, biting down on her bottom lip as the particles settled across the bedcovers.

Ida seemed mesmerised by the glitter. ‘It’s not mess, it’s fairy dust!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. Her still youthful blue eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, this is wonderful, isn’t it, Ben? Sandy will bring magic to Dolphin Bay. I just know it!’

Ben watched the tiny metallic particles as they glistened on the white hospital sheets. Saw the pleasure in his aunt’s shrewd gaze, the gleam of reluctant laughter in Sandy’s eyes.

‘Magic? Well, it did come from my fairy notebook,’ she said.

Something called him to join in their complicity, to believe in their fantasy.

Hope he’d thought long extinguished struggled to revive itself. Magic? Was it magic that Sandy had brought with her? Magic from the past? Magic for the future? He desperately wanted to believe that.

But there was no such thing as magic. He’d learnt that on a violently blazing day five years ago, when he had been powerless to save the lives of his family.

He would need a hell of a lot more than some so-called fairy dust to change his mind.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE FIRST THING Sandy noticed on the beach early the next morning was the dog. A big, shaggy golden retriever, it lay near a towel on the sand near the edge of the water with its head resting on its paws. Its gaze was directed out to the surf of Big Ray Beach, the beach she’d reached via the boardwalk from the bay.

Twelve years ago she’d thought ‘Big Ray’ must refer to a person. No. Ben had informed her the beach had another name on the maps. But the locals had named it after the two enormous manta rays that lived on the northern end of the beach and every so often undulated their way to the other end. He had laughed at her squeals and hugged her close, telling her they were harmless and that he would keep her safe from anything that dared hurt her.

This morning there were only a few people in the water; she guessed one of them must be the dog’s owner. At six-thirty, with strips of cloud still tinged pink from sunrise, it was already warm, the weather gearing up for sultry heat after the previous day’s storm. Cicadas were already tuning up their chorus for the day.

Sandy smiled at the picture of doggy devotion. Get dog of own once settled in Melbourne, she added in a mental memo for her ‘to do’ list. That-Jerk-Jason had allergies and wouldn’t tolerate a dog in the house. How had she been so in love with him when they’d had so little in common apart from their jobs?

She walked up to the dog and dropped to her knees in the sand. She offered it her hand to sniff, then ruffled the fur behind its neck. ‘Aren’t you a handsome boy?’ she murmured.

The dog looked up momentarily, with friendly, intelligent eyes, thumped his plumed tail on the sand, then resumed his vigil.

She followed the animal’s gaze, curious to see the object of such devotion. The dog’s eyes were fixed on a man who was body-surfing. His broad, powerful shoulders and athletic physique were in perfect sync with the wave, harnessing its energy as it curled behind him and he shot towards shore.

The man was Ben.

She knew that even before he lifted his head from the water, a look of intense exhilaration on his face as he powered down the face of the wave. He was as at home on a wave as he had been when he was nineteen, and for a moment it was as if she were thrown back into the past. So much of her time with him that summer had been spent on this beach.

She was transported back to a morning like this when she’d run from the guesthouse to the sand and found him riding a wave, accompanied by a pod of dolphins, their grey shapes distinct on the underside of the wave. Joy and wonder had shone from his face. She’d splashed in to meet him and shared a moment of pure magic before the pod took off. Afterwards they’d lain on their backs on the beach, holding hands, marvelling over the experience. Did he remember?

Now he had seen her watching, and he lifted off the wave as it carried him into shore. She wanted to call out to him not to break off his ride on her account, but knew he wouldn’t hear her over the sound of the surf.

He waved a greeting and swam, then strode towards her through the small breaking waves that foamed around his legs. Her breath caught in her throat at his near-naked magnificence. He was so tall and powerfully built that he seemed to dominate the vastness of the ocean and the horizon behind him.

His hair was dark and plastered to his head. The water was streaming off his broad shoulders and honed muscles. Sunlight glistened off the drops of water on his body so he seemed for one fanciful moment like some kind of mythical hero, emerging from the sea.

Desire, sudden and overwhelming, surged through her. Her nipples tensed and she seemed to melt inside. She wanted him. Longed for him. How could she ever have left him? She should have defied her parents and got back to Dolphin Bay. Somehow. Anyhow. Just to be with him.

That was back then. Now they were very different people who just happened to have found themselves on the same beach. But the attraction was as compelling as ever, undiluted by the years that had passed.

Why couldn’t she forget that special time they had shared? What kept alive that fraction of hope that they could share it again? It wasn’t just that she found him good-looking. This irrational compulsion was more than that. Something so powerful it overrode his rejection of her overtures. He didn’t want her here. He had made that clear from the word go. She should just return his acquaintance-type wave and walk on.

But she ran in to the knee-deep waves to meet him. The dog splashed alongside her, giving a few joyous barks of welcome. She squealed at the sudden chill of the water as it sprayed her.

Remember, just friends, she reminded herself as she and Ben neared each other. Give him even a hint of the desire that had her so shaky and confused and he might turn back to that ocean and swim all the way to New Zealand.

‘Good morning, Mr President,’ she said. Ben as leader of the business community? It took some getting used to. And yet the air of authority was there when he dealt with his staff at the hotel—and they certainly gave him the deference due to a well-respected boss.

‘Just Ben will do,’ he said as he walked beside her onto the dry sand. As always, she had trouble keeping up with his stride.

She was finding it almost impossible not to look at his body, impressive in red board shorts. Kept casting sideways glances at him.

‘So you’ve met Hobo,’ he said, with an affectionate glance at the dog.

‘No formal introductions were made, but we said hello,’ she said, still breathless at her physical reaction to him. ‘Is he yours?’

She felt self-conscious at Ben’s nearness, aware that she was wearing only a bikini covered by the skimpiest of tank tops.

‘My mother helps out at a dog shelter. Sometimes she brings dogs home to foster until they find permanent homes. This one clapped eyes on me, followed me to my house and has been with me ever since.’ He leaned down to pat the dog vigorously. ‘Can’t get rid of you, can I, mate?’ He spoke with ill-concealed affection.

So he had something to love.

She was glad.

‘He’s adorable. And he guarded your towel like a well-trained soldier.’

Ben picked up the towel from the sand and flung it around his neck. How many times had she seen him do that in just the same way? How many times had he tucked his towel solicitously around her if her own towel was damp?

‘What brings you to the beach so early?’ he asked.

She pulled a face. ‘Had to walk those Snickers bars off.’

‘How many gone?’

‘Only two.’

‘One for dinner and one for breakfast?’

‘Chocolate for breakfast? I’ve got a sweet tooth, but I’m not a total sugar freak.’ She scuffed her foot in the sand. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking of all I don’t know about managing a bookstore.’ Kept thinking about you.

He picked up a piece of driftwood and threw it for Hobo. The dog bounded into the water to retrieve it.

‘You took a lot of notes from Aunt Ida yesterday.’

‘It’s just nerves. Bay Books is so important for Ida and I want to get it right.’

‘You’ll be fine. It’s only for a few days.’

No doubt he meant to sound reassuring. But it seemed as if he was reminding her yet again that he wanted her out of Dolphin Bay.

‘Yes. Just a few days,’ she echoed. ‘I guess I won’t bankrupt the place in that time.’

Hobo splashed out of the shallows with the driftwood in his mouth, grinning a doggy grin and looking very pleased with himself. He dropped it between their feet.

Sandy reached down to pick it up at the same time as Ben did. She collided with his warm, solid shoulders, felt her head connect with his. ‘Ouch!’ She rubbed the side of her temple.

‘Are you okay?’ Ben pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him.

They stood very close, her hands on his shoulders where she’d braced herself for balance. He was damp and salty and smelled as fresh and clean as the morning. It would be so easy to slide her hands down, to tangle her fingers in his chest hair, test the strength of his muscles. Every cell in her body seemed to tingle with awareness where his bare skin touched hers.

She nodded, scarcely able to speak. ‘That’s one tough skull you’ve got there. But I’m fine. Really.’

He gently probed her head, his fingers sending currents of sensation coursing through her. ‘There’s no bump.’

‘I think I’ll live,’ she managed to choke out, desperately attempting to sound flippant.

His big scarred hands moved from her scalp to cradle her face. He tilted her head so she was forced to look up into his eyes. For a long moment he searched her face.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sandy,’ he said, his voice hoarse.

She knew he wasn’t talking about the collision. ‘I realise that, Ben,’ she whispered.

Then, with her eyes drowning in his, he kissed her.

She was so surprised she stood stock-still for a moment. Then she relaxed into the sensation of Ben’s mouth on hers. It felt like coming home.

* * *

When Ben had lifted his head from the wave and had seen Sandy standing on the beach, it had been as if the past and the present had coalesced into one shining moment. A joy so unexpected it was painful had flooded his heart.

And here he was, against all resolutions, kissing her.

Her lips were warm and pliant beneath his. Her breasts were pressed to his chest. Her eyes, startled at first, were filled with an expression of bliss.

He shouldn’t be kissing her. Starting things he could not finish. Risking pain for both of them. But those thoughts were lost in the wonder of having her close to him again.

It was as if the twelve years between kisses had never happened.

He twined his hands in her shiny vanilla-scented hair, tilted her head back as he deepened the kiss, pushed against her lips with his tongue. Her mouth parted to welcome him, to meet the tip of his tongue with hers.

She made a small murmur of appreciation and wound her arms around his neck. His arms slid to her waist, to the smooth, warm skin where her top stopped, drawing her close. He could feel her heart thudding against his chest.

He wanted her. She could surely feel his arousal. But this wasn’t just about sex. It had always been so much more than that with Sandy.

The world shrank to just him and her, and the surf was a muted pounding that echoed the pulsing of their hearts, the blood running hot through his veins.

He could feel her nipples hard against him. Sensed the shiver of pleasure that vibrated through her. He pulled her tighter, wanting her as close to him as she could be.

But then something landed near his foot, accompanied by a piteous whining. Hobo. The driftwood. Damn!

He ignored it. Sand was dug in a flurry around them, stinging his legs. The whining turned to sharp, demanding barks.

Inwardly he cursed. Willed Hobo to go away. But the dog just kept on digging and barking. Ben broke away from the first time he’d kissed Sandy in twelve years for long enough to mutter, ‘Get lost, boy.’

But when he quickly reclaimed Sandy’s lips she was trembling. Not with passion but repressed laughter. ‘He’s not going to go away, you know,’ she murmured against his mouth.

Ben groaned. He swore. He leaned down, grabbed the driftwood and threw it as far away as he could—so hard he nearly wrenched his shoulder.

Now Sandy was bent over with laughter. ‘He wasn’t going to let up, was he?’

Ben cursed his dog again.

‘I know you don’t really mean that,’ she said, with a mischievous tilt to her mouth. ‘Poor Hobo.’

‘Back to the shelter for him,’ Ben growled.

‘As if,’ said Sandy.

She looked up to him, her eyes still dancing with laughter. She looked as though she’d been thoroughly kissed. He didn’t shave until after his morning surf and her chin was all pink from his beard. He felt a surge of possessiveness so fierce it was primal.

‘That...that was nice, Ben.’

Nice? He struggled for a word to sum up what it had meant to him. When he didn’t reply straight away, the soft, satisfied light of a woman who knew she was desired seemed to dim in her eyes.

‘More than nice,’ he said, and her eyes lit up again.

He reached out to smooth that wayward lock of hair from her eyes. She caught his hand with hers and dropped a quick kiss on it before she let it go.

‘Why did you kiss me, Ben, when with every second breath you’re telling me go away?’

Did he know the answer himself? ‘Because I—’

He couldn’t find the words to say, Because you’re Sandy, and you’re beautiful, and I still can’t believe you’ve come back to me, but I’m afraid to let you in because I don’t want to love you and then lose you again.

Her eyes were huge in her flushed face. She’d got damp from hugging him while he was still wet from the surf. Her tank top clung to her curves, her nipples standing erect through the layers of fabric.

She ran the edge of her pink pointy tongue along her lips to moisten her mouth. He watched, fascinated, aching to kiss her again.

A tremor edged her voice. ‘It’s still there, isn’t it, Ben? That attraction. That feeling there isn’t anyone else in this world at this moment but you and me. It was like that from the start and it hasn’t changed.’ She took a deep gulp of air. ‘If only...’

He clenched his fists so hard his scars ached. ‘I told you—no if-onlys. That—the kiss—it shouldn’t have happened.’

‘Why not?’ Her eyes were still huge. ‘We’re both free. Grown-up now and able to choose what we want from our lives, choose who we want to be with.’

Choose to leave when we want to.

Even after that one brief kiss he could feel what it would be like, having found her, to lose her again. He’d managed fine these past years on his own. He couldn’t endure the pain of loss again.

She looked very serious, her brow creased. ‘That time we had together all those years ago was so special. I don’t know about you, but I was too young to appreciate just how special. I never again felt that certainty, that rightness. Maybe this unexpected time together is a gift. For us to get to know each other again. Or...or...maybe we have to try it again so that we can let it go. Have you thought of that?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that easy, Sandy.’

‘Of course it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy for me either. I’m not in a rush to get my heart broken again.’

He noticed again the shadows under her eyes. Remembered her ex had got married yesterday. Typically, she wasn’t letting on about her pain. But it was there.

‘I can see that,’ he said.

He was glad the beach was practically deserted, with just a few people walking along the hard, damp sand at the edge of the waves, others still in the surf. Hobo romped with another dog in the shallows.

Her voice was low and intense. ‘Maybe if we gave it a go we’d...we’d burn it out.’

‘You think so?’ He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.

She threw up her hands. ‘Who knows? After all this time we don’t really know what the other is like now. Grown-up Sandy. Grown-up Ben. We might hate each other.’

‘I can’t see that happening.’ Hate Sandy? No way. Never.

She scuffed the sand with her bare toes, not meeting his eyes. ‘How do you know? I like to put a positive spin on things when I can. But, fact is, I haven’t had a lot of luck with men. When I started dating—after I gave up on us seeing each other again—it seemed to me there were two types of men: nice ones, like you, who would ultimately betray me—’

He growled his protest.

She looked back up at him. ‘I know now it was a misunderstanding between us, but I didn’t know that then. If anyone betrayed me it was my father. By lying to me about you. By cheating on our family.’

He didn’t disagree. ‘And the second type of man?’

‘Forceful, controlling guys—’

‘Like your father?’

She nodded. ‘They’d convince me they knew what was best for me. I’d be in too deep before I realised they had anything but my interests at heart. But obviously I must have been at fault, too, when things went wrong.’

‘You’re too hard on yourself.’ He hated to see the tight expression on her face.

Her mouth twisted into an excuse of a smile. ‘Am I? Even little things about a person can get annoying. Jason used to hate that I never replaced the empty toilet roll. It was only because the fancy holder he installed ruined my nails when I tried, but—’

Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What kind of a loser was this guy?’

‘He wasn’t a loser. He was smart. Clever. It seemed I could be myself with him. I thought at last I’d found Mr Perfect. But that was one of the reasons he gave for falling out of love with me.’ She bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘And he said I was noisy and a show-off.’

Ben was so astounded he couldn’t find an appropriate response.

Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. ‘When I first knew him he said I lit up a room just by coming into it. Effervescent was the word he used. By the end he said I embarrassed him with my loud behaviour.’

Her voice was forcedly cheerful but there was a catch to it that tore at Ben.

‘But you don’t want to hear about that.’

Anger against this unknown man who had hurt Sandy fuelled him. ‘You’re damn right I don’t. It’s crap. That jerk was just saying that to make himself feel better about betraying you.’

She pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘I tell myself that too. It made me self-conscious around people for a while—you know...the noisy show-off thing. I couldn’t help wondering if people were willing me to shut up but were too polite to say so. But...but I’ve put it behind me.’

With his index finger he tilted her face upwards. ‘Sandy. Look at me. I would never, ever think you were an embarrassing show-off. I never have and I never will. Okay? You’re friendly and warm and you put people at ease. That’s a gift.’

‘Nice of you to say so. Kind words are always welcome.’ Her voice made light of what she said.

‘And I would never give a damn about a toilet roll.’

Her mouth twitched. ‘It sounds so dumb when you say it out loud. A toilet roll.’ The twitch led to a smile and then to full-blown giggles. ‘What a stupid thing for a relationship to founder over.’

‘And what a moron he was to let it.’

Ben found himself laughing with her. It felt good. Again, like oil on those rusty, seized emotions he had thought would never be kick-started into life again.

‘I was just using the toilet roll as an example of how little things about a person can get annoying to someone else,’ she said. Her laughter died away. ‘After a few days of my company you might be glad to see the end of me.’

‘And vice-versa?’ The way he’d cut himself off from relationships, she was more likely to get the worst end of the bargain. He was out of the habit of being a boyfriend.

She nodded. ‘Then we could both move on, free of...free of this thing that won’t let go of us. With...with the past washed clean.’

‘Maybe,’ he conceded.

She wanted to rekindle old embers to see if they burned again or fizzled away into lifeless ash. But what if they raged away like a bush fire out of control and he was the one left scorched and lifeless? Again.

She took hold of his arm. Her voice was underscored with urgency. ‘Ben, we should grab this second chance. Otherwise we might regret it for the rest of our lives. Like I regret that I didn’t trust in what we had. I should have come back to you to Dolphin Bay. I was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake, not eight. What could my parents have done about it?’

‘I came looking for you in Sydney.’ He hadn’t meant to let that out. Had never intended to tell her.

Her brows rose. ‘When?’

‘A few months after you left.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘You wouldn’t. My mates were playing football at Chatswood, on the north shore. I had my dad’s car to drive down with them.’ He’d been up from university for the Easter break. ‘After the game I found your place.’

‘The house in Killara?’

He nodded. It had been a big house in a posh northern suburb, designed to show off her father’s social status. ‘I parked outside, hoping I’d see you. Not sure what I’d do if I did.’

‘Why didn’t you come in?’

‘I was nineteen. You hadn’t written. Or phoned. For all I knew you’d forgotten all about me. And I knew your father wouldn’t welcome me.’

‘Was I there? I can’t believe while you were outside I might have been in my room. Probably sobbing into my diary about how much I was missing you.’

‘Your hat was hanging on the veranda. I could see it from outside. That funny, stripy bucket hat you used to wear.’

She screwed up her face. ‘I remember... I lost that hat.’

‘No, you didn’t. I took it. I jumped over the fence and snatched it.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding me? My old hat? Do...do you still have it?’

‘Once I was back in the car my mates grabbed it from me. When we crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge they threw it out of the window.’

‘Hey! That hat cost a whole lot of hard-earned babysitting money.’

She pretended outrage, but he could tell she was shaken by his story.

‘I didn’t steal it to see it squashed by a truck. I wanted to punch my mates out. But they told me to stop bothering with a girl who didn’t want me when there were plenty who did.’

Sandy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she sighed. ‘Oh, Ben, if only...’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t say it. You’re right. No point.’

‘That’s when I gave up on you.’

He’d said enough. He could never admit that for years afterwards when he’d driven over that spot on the bridge he’d looked out for her hat.

‘And there were other girls?’ She put her hand up in her halt sign. ‘No. Don’t tell me about them. I couldn’t bear it.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I used to imagine all those blonde surfer chicks. Glad the city interloper was gone. Able to have their surf god all to themselves again.’

He stared at her incredulously. ‘Did you just call me a surf god?’

Colour stained her cheeks. ‘Hey, I’m in advertising. I get creative with copy.’ But when she looked up at him her eyes were huge and sincere. ‘I adored you, Ben. You must know that.’ Her voice caught in her throat.

Ben shifted from foot to foot in the sand. ‘I... Uh... Same here.’ He’d planned his life around her.

‘Let’s spend these four days together,’ she urged. ‘Forget all that’s happened to us since we last saw each other. Just go back to how we were. Sandy and Ben. Teenagers again. Carefree. Enjoying each other’s company. Recapturing what we had.’

‘You mean a fling?’

‘A four-day fling? No strings? Why not? I’m prepared to risk it if you are.’

Risk. Was he ready to risk the safe life he’d so carefully constructed around himself in Dolphin Bay? He’d done so well in business by taking risks. But taking this risk—even for four days—could have far greater complications than monetary loss.

‘Sandy. I hear what you’re saying. But I need time.’

‘Ben, we don’t have time. We—’

Hobo skidded at their feet, the driftwood in his mouth, wet and eager and demanding attention.

Sandy glared at the animal. ‘You have a great sense of timing, dog.’

‘Yeah, he’s known for it.’ Ben reached down for the driftwood and tossed it just a short distance away. ‘I’ve got to get him back. Dogs are only allowed unleashed on the beach before seven a.m.’

‘And you can’t be seen to be breaking the rules, can you?’

Was she taunting him?

No. The expression in her eyes was wistful, and he realised how she’d put herself on the line for him. For them. Or the possibility of them.

He turned to her. ‘I’ll consider what you said, Sandy.’

Her tone was again forcedly cheerful. ‘Okay, Mr President.’

He grinned. ‘I prefer surf god.’

‘I’m going to regret telling you I called you that, aren’t I? Okay, surf god. But don’t take too long. These four days will be gone before we know it and then I’m out of here. Let’s not waste them.’ She turned to face the water. ‘Are the mantas still in residence?’

‘Yes. More likely their descendants, still scaring the hell out of tourists.’

He remembered how she’d started off being terrified of the big black rays. But by the end of that summer she’d been snorkelling around them. She had overcome her fears. Could he be as brave?

She reached up and hugged him. Briefly, he held her bare warmth to him before she pushed him away.

‘Go,’ she said, her voice not quite steady. ‘Me? I’m having my first swim at Big Ray Beach for twelve years. I can’t wait to get into the surf.’

With unconscious grace she pulled off her skimpy tank top, giving him the full impact of her body in a brief yellow bikini. Her breasts were definitely bigger than they’d been when she was eighteen.

Was he insane not to pull her back into his arms? To kiss her again? To laugh with her again? To have her as part of his life again?

For four days.

She headed for the water, treating him to a tantalising view of her sexy, shapely bottom. ‘Come see me when you’ve done your thinking,’ she called over her shoulder, before running into the surf.

She squealed as the cold hit her. Water sprayed up over her slim brown legs and the early sunlight shattered into a million glistening crystals. More fairy dust.

He looked at the tracks her feet had made in the sand. After the fire he had felt as if he’d been broken down to nothing—like rock into sand. Slowly, painfully, he had put himself back together. But there were cracks, places deep inside him, that still crumbled at the slightest touch.

If he let it, could Sandy’s magic help give him the strength to become not the man he had been but someone better, finer, forged by the tragedy he had endured? Or would she break him right back down to nothing?

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVERY TIME THE old-fashioned bell on the top of the entrance door to Bay Books jangled Sandy looked up, heart racing, body tensed in anticipation. And every time it wasn’t Ben she felt so let down she had to force herself to smile and cheerfully greet the customers, hoping they wouldn’t detect the false note to her voice.

When would he come? Surely he wanted to be with her as much as she ached to be with him?

Or was he staying away because she had driven him away, by coming on too strong before he was ready? His reaction had both surprised and hurt her. Why had he been so uncertain about taking this second, unexpected chance with her? It was only for four days. Surely they could handle that?

She knew she should stop reliving every moment on the beach this morning over and over again, as if she were still eighteen. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. That wonderful, wonderful kiss. After all those years it could have been a let-down. But kissing Ben again had been everything she had ever fantasised about. In his arms, his mouth claiming hers, she’d still felt the same heady mix of comfort, pleasure and bone-melting desire. It was as if their twelve-year separation had never happened.

Although there was a difference. Now she wanted him with an adult’s hunger—an adult’s sensual knowledge of the pleasures that could follow a kiss.

She remembered how on fire with first-time desire she’d felt all that time ago, when they’d been making out behind the boat shed. Or in the back seat of his father’s car, parked on the bluff overlooking the ocean. They hadn’t even noticed the view. Not that they could have seen it through the fogged-up windows.

And yet she hadn’t let him go all the way. Hadn’t felt ready for that final step. Even though she had been head-over-heels in love with him.

Her virginal young self hadn’t appreciated the effort it must have taken for Ben to hold back. ‘When you’re ready,’ he’d always said. Not like her experiences with boys in Sydney—‘suitable’ sons of her fathers’ friends—all grabby hands and then sulks when she’d slapped them away. No. Ben truly had been her Sir Galahad on a surfboard.

Would a four-day fling include making love with Ben? That might be more than she—or Ben—could handle. They should keep it to kissing. And talking. And lots of laughing. Like it had been back then. Carefree. Uncomplicated.

She refused to listen to that nagging internal voice. Could anything be uncomplicated with the grown-up Ben?

She forced her thoughts back to the present and got on with her work. She had to finish the job Ida had been in the middle of when she’d fallen—unpacking a delivery and slotting the books artfully onto the ‘new releases’ table.

Just minutes later, with a sigh of satisfaction, she stepped back to survey her work. She loved working in the bookshop. Even after just a few hours she felt right at home. The individuality and quirkiness of Ida’s set-up connected with her, though she could immediately see things she’d like to change to bring the business model of this bricks-and-mortar bookstore more in step to compete with the e-bookstores. That said, if she could inject just a fraction of Bay Books’ charm into her candle shop she’d be very happy. She must write in her fairy notebook: Ask Ida about Balinese woodcarvers.

But it wasn’t just about the wooden dolphins with their enchanting carved smiles. The idyllic setting was a vital part of Bay Books. Not, she suspected, to be matched by the high-volume-retail-traffic Melbourne mall the candle people would insist on for their shop. It might be hard to get as excited about that.

Here, she only had to walk over to the window to view the quaint harbour, with the old-fashioned stone walls that sheltered it from the turquoise-blue waters of the open sea—only had to push the door open to hear the squawk of seagulls, breathe in the salt-tangy air.

This morning, in her hotel room, she had been awoken by a chorus of kookaburras. When she’d opened the sliding doors to her balcony it had been to find a row of lorikeets, the small, multi-coloured parrots like living gems adorning the balcony railing. On her way to the beach she’d surprised two small kangaroos, feeding in the grass in the bushland between the boardwalk and the sand dunes of Big Ray. It was good for the soul.

What a difference from fashionable, revitalised inner-city Surry Hills, where she lived in Sydney. It had more restaurants, bars and boutiques than she would ever have time to try. But it was densely populated and in summer could be stiflingly hot and humid. Driving round and round the narrow streets, trying to find somewhere to park her car, she’d sometimes dreamed of living in a place closer to nature.

And here she was back in Dolphin Bay, working in a stranger’s bookshop, reconnecting with her first love.

It seemed surreal.

She paused, a paperback thriller in her hand. Remembered her pink-inked resolution. Get as far away from Sydney as possible.

That didn’t necessarily have to mean moving to Melbourne.

But she had only ever been a city girl. Could she settle for small-town life and the restrictions that entailed?

The bell sounded again. She looked up, heart thudding, mouth suddenly dry. But again it wasn’t Ben. It was red-haired Kate, the waitress from the hotel.

‘Hey, nice to see you, Kate,’ she said, masking her disappointment that the woman wasn’t her tall blond surf god.

‘You too,’ said Kate. ‘We all love this shop and the personal service Ida gives us. It’s great you’re able to help her out.’

‘Isn’t it? I’m getting the hang of things. Can I help you with a book?’ she asked.

Kate smiled and Sandy wondered if she could tell how inexperienced a shopkeeper she was.

‘Ida ordered some titles for me, but in all the drama yesterday I didn’t get a chance to see if they were in.’

‘Sure,’ said Sandy, heading behind the counter to access Ida’s computer. She had the special orders file open when Kate leaned towards her over the carved wooden counter.

‘So, I heard you and Ben were kissing on the beach this morning.’

Sandy was so flabbergasted she choked. She coughed and spluttered, unable to utter a word in response.

Kate rushed around the counter and patted Sandy’s back until her breath came more easily.

‘Thanks,’ Sandy finally managed to choke out.

‘Don’t be so surprised. News travels fast in Dolphin Bay.’

Sandy took another ragged breath. ‘I’m beginning to see that.’

Kate’s green eyes gleamed. ‘So you were kissing Ben?’

Again Sandy was too aghast to reply. ‘Well, I...’ she started.

‘She who hesitates is thinking of how to tell me to mind my own business,’ said Kate with a grin.

Sandy laughed at her audacity. ‘Well, now that you mention it...’

‘Feel free to tell me to keep my big mouth shut, but...well, I love Ben to pieces and I don’t want—’

Ben and Kate?

Sandy felt dizzy—not from lack of air but from the feeling that her heart had plummeted to the level of her ballet flats. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, I didn’t know... He didn’t say...’

Kate’s auburn eyebrows rose. ‘I don’t mean that kind of love. My mum and Ben’s mum are friends. I grew up with Ben. It’s his brother, Jesse, I have a thing for. Unrequited, unfortunately.’

‘Oh,’ said Sandy, beyond relieved that Kate hadn’t marched into the bookshop to stake a claim on Ben.

Kate leaned closer. ‘You do realise that for Ben to be kissing a woman in public is a big, big deal?’

Sandy took a step back. ‘It was six-thirty in the morning on a practically deserted beach.’

‘That might be private in Sydney, but not in a place like Dolphin Bay. Here, it takes one person to see for everyone to know.’

‘I had no idea.’ Sandy felt suddenly dry in the mouth. What kind of pressure did this put on Ben? On her?

‘You and Ben together is big news.’

‘Then next time—if there is a next time—I’ll make sure we’re completely alone.’

She spoke with such vehemence that Kate frowned and took a step back from her. ‘I’m sorry, Sandy. But this is a small town. We all look out for each other. If you’re not serious about Ben don’t start something you’re not prepared to see through.’

Sandy gripped the edge of the counter. She knew Ben had been to hell and wasn’t yet all the way back. She didn’t need anyone to tell her.

Pointedly, she scrolled through the special orders file on Ida’s computer, looked up again at Kate. ‘I don’t see your order here, but your contact number is. How about I call you when it comes in?’

Kate shifted from foot to foot. ‘You must think I’m the nosiest busybody you’ve ever met.’

Sandy didn’t disagree.

‘But I’ve only got Ben’s interests at heart,’ Kate continued, sounding hurt.

Sandy gentled her tone of voice. ‘I appreciate that.’

She was gratified at Kate’s smile as she said goodbye. Despite the redhead’s total lack of tact, she thought she could get to like her.

But Kate’s visit, with her revelation about the undercurrents of small-town life, had left her reeling. She’d had no idea that any reunion would be conducted under such watchful eyes. What had seemed so simple on the beach at dawn suddenly seemed very complicated.

It made her self-conscious when dealing with the customers who came in dribs and drabs through the doors. Were they genuinely interested in browsing through the books—or in perusing her? Her doubts were realised when two older ladies, hidden from full view behind a display of travel books, spoke in too-loud whispers they obviously thought she couldn’t hear.

‘She seems nice, and Ida likes her,’ said the first one. ‘That’s a point in her favour.’

Sandy held her breath when she realised they were talking about her.

‘It might be a good thing. Ben’s been in mourning for too long. His mother’s worried about him,’ said the other.

‘I wonder what Jodi’s parents will think.’ The first lady sighed. ‘Such a sweet girl. What a loss. No wonder Ben’s stayed on his own all this time.’

Sandy slammed her hand over her mouth so the ladies wouldn’t hear her gasp. Jodi. Ben’s late wife. The gentle woman Ben had loved enough to marry and have a child with.

She stared ahead without seeing. Noticed a poster promoting a bestselling new celebrity biography had come adrift at one corner. But she felt too shaken to do anything about it. Would there always be the memory of another woman coming between her and Ben? Could she cope with coming second? With being just a disposable fling while his wife always held first place in his heart?

She couldn’t meet the ladies’ eyes when they scurried out through the door without buying a book.

An old familiar panic had started to overwhelm her—the same panic she’d used to feel when she’d been faced with those big waves rearing up so aggressively as she’d stood dry-mouthed with terror on the beach. Ben had helped her conquer that fear and discover the joy of riding the waves—and she’d used the memory to help her deal with any number of challenges she’d faced in her career. But now what she’d thought would be smooth water ahead might be filled with swirling undercurrents. Did she have the strength to battle through the rough water?

Was it worth it for a four-day fling?

The bell on the top of the door jangled again. She jumped. More ladies to check her out and assess her suitability?

Ben shouldered his way through the door, carrying two large take-away coffee containers. The smile he gave her made her heart do the flippy thing—backwards, forwards and tumbling over itself. Her breath seemed to accelerate, making her feel light-headed, giddy.

Her surf god. In the flesh and hotter than ever.

He was back in shorts, and a blue polo shirt that hugged the breadth of his shoulders and brought out the blue of his eyes. She preferred the semi-naked beach look, but in true surf god manner he looked wonderful in anything he wore.

She smiled back in her joy at seeing him again. It was four hours and thirty-five minutes since she’d said goodbye to him on the beach.

She prayed no customers would intrude. More than ever she needed to be alone with Ben. To be reassured that the thing between them was worth taking the risks of which she’d been so blithely ignorant.

Kate’s words had hit home. Made her all too aware of the power she had to wound Ben. After all, she was the one who had left him all those years ago. Then he’d been young and untroubled, and still she had hurt him. Now he was anything but untroubled.

Could he deal with a walk-away-from-it fling?

Could she?

The expectations of her were frightening. But what if the reality of Ben didn’t match up to her memories? What if they didn’t have a thing in common and she wanted to run after the first twenty-four hours? What if he wanted her to stay and she hurt him all over again? Or if she fell hard for him again but couldn’t match up to his wife? Then it would be her with her heart broken again.

She caught her breath in what felt dangerously like a sob.

Could she do this?

‘You okay?’

His marvellous blue eyes were warm with concern for her. That sexy, sexy mouth was set in a serious line that just made her want to kiss it into a smile. Wordlessly, she nodded.

Could she not do it?

‘Apparently we were seen on the beach this morning,’ she said.

‘Seen and duly noted. Makes you wonder what else people have to do with their time.’

‘You’re big news in Dolphin Bay.’

He put the coffee down on the counter. ‘You’re bigger news.’

‘Tell me about it. The predatory city slicker hunting down the town’s favourite son.’

She’d meant that to sound like a joke. But as soon as it came out she knew it was anything but funny.

Ben frowned. ‘Did someone say that?’

‘Yes. Well, not in so many words. Kate dropped in.’ She couldn’t help the wobble in her voice.

Why had Kate and those women come in and ruined everything? Made her feel suddenly so self-conscious with Ben?

She just wanted to fall back into his arms and continue where they’d left off this morning. But the exchange she’d overheard had unsettled her.

She bit down on her lower lip and looked up at Ben, not certain what to do next. How could she tell him she was having cold feet because she was so terrified of hurting him? Could she find the courage to ask him about Jodi?

CHAPTER NINE

TO BEN, SANDY looked as if she’d always stood behind the counter of Bay Books. The short hair he was still getting used to was tucked behind her ears. Just below her left shoulder she had pinned a round metal badge that urged people to get involved with a local literacy campaign. She looked smart, efficient—every inch the professional salesperson. Yet her yellow dress seemed to bring the sunlight right into the corners of the dark wooden carvings so favoured by Aunt Ida, and her vanilla scent brought a sweet new warmth.

She fitted right in.

Ida would be delighted.

But Sandy looked anything but happy—she was wary, guarded, with a shadow behind her eyes. She was chewing her lip so hard she was in danger of drawing blood.

Fear gripped him deep in his gut. What gave here?

‘Hey,’ he said, and went around the counter to pull her into his arms, expecting her warm curves to relax against him. Instead she stiffened and resisted his embrace.

Why the sudden cold change? Hell, he’d worked damn hard to pull down a chink in those barriers he’d built up. Had she now decided to put up a few of her own?

It didn’t figure.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

Sandy took a step back, her struggle to decide what to tell him etched on her face. She picked up a waxed paper coffee cup, took a sip. Her hand wasn’t quite steady and the froth on the top wobbled dangerously. She put it down and the foam slid over the lid of the cup and dribbled down its side.

‘Leave it,’ he said as she reached for a cloth to wipe it up.

‘No. It might damage the wood,’ she said.

She cleaned the spill too thoroughly. A delaying tactic if ever he’d seen one.

She put the cloth away, started to speak way too rapidly. ‘Why don’t we take our coffee over to the round table?’ She was gabbling, her eyes blinking rapidly as she looked everywhere but at him. ‘It’s a cosier place to have coffee. Y’know, I’m thinking it would be great for Ida to have a café here. Maybe knock through to the vacant shop next door so that customers—’

She went to pick up the coffee cup again, but he closed his hand around her wrist to stop her. He wouldn’t give her an excuse to evade him. Her hand stilled under his. ‘Tell me. Now.’

Her eyes flickered up to meet his and then back down. When she spoke, her words came out in a rush. ‘Kate told me the whole town is watching to see if I hurt you.’

In his relief, he cursed. ‘Is that all?’ He let go her wrist.

‘What do you mean, is that all?’ Hands on hips, she glared at him with the ferocity of a fluffed-up kitten. ‘Don’t you patronise me, Ben Morgan. Kate really freaked me out.’

He used both hands to push down in a gesture of calm. ‘Kate exaggerates. Kate and the old-school people who were here before Dolphin Bay became a hotspot for escapees from the city. They all mind each other’s business.’

Sandy’s chin tilted upwards. ‘And your business in particular, if Kate’s to be believed.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘Are you telling me that’s part and parcel of living in a small town?’

He picked up his coffee. Drank a few mouthfuls to give him time to think. It was just as he had predicted. Ben’s old girlfriend is back. He could practically hear the hot news humming through cyberspace. ‘Yeah. Better get used to it.’

‘I don’t know if I can.’ Her voice rose to a higher pitch. ‘I’m used to the don’t-give-a-damn attitude of the city.’

Ben thought back to how the town had pulled together for him after the fire. How it had become so stifling he’d had to get away. He’d thrown himself into high-risk money-making ventures because he’d had nothing to lose when he’d already lost everything. They’d paid off in spades. And he’d come back. Dolphin Bay would always be home. No matter that sad memories haunted him at every turn.

But why should that hothouse concern for him bother Sandy?

Her arms were crossed defensively against her chest. Was she using her fear of the townfolk’s gossip to mask some deeper reluctance? Some concern she had about him?

He chose his words carefully. ‘I can see that. But you’re only here for four more days. We’re not thinking beyond that, right? Why worry about what they think?’

‘I just do,’ she said, in a very small voice.

He put down his coffee, put his finger under her chin and tilted it upwards so she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘What else did Kate say?’

‘It wasn’t Kate. There were some other women. Customers. They...they were talking about...about Jodi.’

Pain knifed through him at the sound of Jodi’s name. People tended to avoid saying it in front of him.

His feelings must have shown on his face, because Sandy looked stricken.

‘Ben, I’m so sorry...’

She went to twist away from him, but he stopped her.

‘I should tell you about Jodi.’

The words would be wrenched from him, but he had to tell Sandy about his wife. There should be no secrets between them. Not if they were to enjoy the four days they had together.

‘Ben. No. You don’t have to—’

He gently put his hand over her mouth to silence her and she nodded.

He dropped his hand. ‘I loved Jodi. Don’t ever think otherwise. She was a good wife and a wonderful mother.’

‘Of course.’ Sandy’s eyes were warm with compassion—and a touch of wariness.

‘I’d known her all my life. But I didn’t date her until I’d finished university and was working in Melbourne.’

Sandy’s brows rose. ‘University? You said—’

‘You wouldn’t catch me in a classroom again?’

‘That’s right. You said it more than once. I remember because I was looking forward to going to uni.’

‘You can thank your father for my business degree.’

She frowned. ‘My father? I—’

‘He used to look at me as if I were something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Left me in no doubt that I wasn’t worthy of his daughter.’ Ben would have liked to apply some apt swear words to his memories of Dr Randall Adams, but Sandy might not appreciate that.

Sandy protested. ‘Surely he didn’t say that to you? I can’t believe he—’

‘He didn’t have to say it. I saw his sneer.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘No wonder I never got your letters.’

Teen testosterone had made him want to flatten the guy. ‘But he had a point. To be worthy of his daughter I needed to get off my surfboard and make something of myself. I had deferred places at universities in both Sydney and Melbourne to choose from.’

‘You never said...’

‘At the time I had no intention of taking either. I just wanted to surf every good break at Big Ray Beach and work for my dad when I needed money to travel to other surf beaches. That summer... I guess it made me grow up.’

He’d been determined to prove Dr Adams wrong. And broadening his horizons had been the right choice, even if made for the wrong reasons. And now fate had brought Sandy back to him. Now they met as equals in every way.

‘You could have been studying at the same uni as me,’ Sandy said slowly. She pulled a face that looked sad rather than funny. ‘I won’t say if only again.’

They both fell silent. But Ben refused to give in to musing about what might have been. He had tortured himself enough.

Sandy cleared her throat. ‘What happened after you finished uni?’

‘I was offered a job in a big stockbroking firm in Melbourne. Got an apartment and stayed down there.’

‘But you came home for holidays? And...and met up with Jodi again?’

He could tell Sandy was finding the conversation awkward. She twisted the fabric of her skirt between the fingers of her right hand without seeming to be aware she was doing it.

‘I had an accident in the surf. Got hit in the face with the fin of my board.’ His hand went to the scar on his lip. ‘Jodi was the nurse who looked after me at the hospital.’

And it had started from there. A relaxed, no-strings relationship with a sweet, kind-hearted girl that had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy.

He’d said there were to be no secrets from Sandy, but Liam’s unexpected conception was something he didn’t want to share with her. Not yet. Maybe never.

‘Jodi moved down to Melbourne with me after we got married.’

‘What...what brought you both back to Dolphin Bay?’

‘I’m not a city guy. I’d had it with Melbourne. The insane work hours, the crowds, the traffic. Mum and Dad were tired of running the guesthouse. Jodi wanted to be with family when she had the baby.’

He gritted his teeth, trying not to let himself be overwhelmed by emotion when he thought of his baby son. The son he’d loved so fiercely from the moment he’d been placed in his arms as a newborn and yet hadn’t been able to protect.

‘I could trade shares from here. Start business projects here.’

There was another pause. Sandy twisted the edge of her skirt even tighter. ‘Those ladies... They...they said Jodi’s parents wouldn’t be happy with me coming onto the scene.’

Ben clenched his hands into fists. Who were these busybody troublemakers? If he found out he’d tell them to damn well butt out of his business.

He shook his head. ‘Not true. Jodi’s mum and dad are good people. They want me to...to have someone in my life again.’

Sandy’s eyes widened. ‘You know that for sure?’

‘Yes. They’ve told me not to let the...the tragedy ruin my life. That...that it’s not what Jodi would have wanted.’

‘And you believe that? About Jodi?’

He nodded. His words were constricted in his throat. ‘The night Liam was born she told me that if anything happened to her—she was a nurse and knew there could be complications in childbirth—she didn’t want me to be on my own. She...she made me promise I would find someone else...’

‘Oh, Ben.’

Sandy laid her hand on his arm. He realised she was close to tears. When she spoke again her voice was so choked he had to strain to hear her.

‘How can I live up to such a wonderful woman?’

In a few shaky steps she made her way around the counter and stood with her back to him. She picked up a book from the display and put it back in exactly the same place.

‘Sandy, it isn’t a competition.’

Her voice was scarcely a murmur. ‘There would always be a third person in our relationship. I don’t know that I could deal with that...’

‘Sandy, didn’t you hear what I said? Jodi would want me to take this chance to spend time with you.’

She turned to face him, the counter now a barrier between them. Her eyes, shadowed again, searched his face. ‘Jodi sounds like...like an angel.’

Ben forced himself to smile through the pain. ‘She’d laugh to hear you say that. Jodi was special, and I loved her. But she was just a human being, like the rest of us, with her own strengths and weaknesses.’

‘Ben, I’m no angel either. Don’t expect me to be. I’m quick to make judgements, grumpy when I’m hungry or tired—and don’t dare to cross me at my time of the month. Oh, and there’s the toilet roll thing.’

Despite the angst of talking about Jodi, Sandy made him smile. Just as she’d done when she was eighteen. ‘You can let me deal with that.’

She pushed the hair away from her forehead in a gesture of weariness. ‘I...I don’t know that I’ve thought this through very well.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

Fear knifed him again.

He’d had five major turning points in his life. One when he’d decided to go to university. The second when he’d married Jodi. The third when Liam was born. Fourth, the fire. And the fifth when he’d looked up from that wave this morning and seen Sandy standing on the shore next to his dog, as if she were waiting for him to come home to her.

Since he’d kissed her he’d thought of nothing but Sandy. Of the impact she’d made in less than twenty-four hours on his safe, guarded, ultimately sterile life.

He hadn’t wanted her here. But her arrival in town had forced him to take stock. And what he saw was a bleak, lonely future—a half-life—if he continued to walk the solitary path he had mapped for himself. He had grieved. A part of him would always grieve. But grief that didn’t heal could twist and turn and fester into something near madness—if he let it.

He would not allow Sandy to back away from him now. She’d offered four days and he was going to take them.

She took a deep breath. ‘The you-and-me thing. What if it doesn’t work out and I...and I hurt you again? You’ve endured so much. I couldn’t bear it if I caused you more pain.’

‘Leave that to me. It’s a gamble I’ll take.’

Sandy was his best bet for change. The ongoing power of his attraction to her improved the odds. Her warmth, her vivacity, made him feel as though the seized-up machinery that was his heart was slowly grinding back to life.

She gave him hope.

Maybe that was her real magic—a magic that had nothing to do with shop-bought fairy glitter.

There were four more days until she had to leave for Melbourne. He didn’t know what he brought to the table for her in terms of a relationship. But he’d be a fool not to grab the second chance she’d offered him. No matter the cost if he lost her again.

‘Are you still worried about the townsfolk? They’re nothing to be scared of.’

She set her shoulders, tossed back her head. ‘Scared? Who said I’m scared?’ Her mouth quirked into the beginnings of a smile. ‘Maybe...maybe I am a little scared.’

Scared of him? Was that the real problem? Was she frightened he would rush her into something before she was ready?

He ached to make love to Sandy. Four days might not be enough to get to that stage. But he could wait if that was what she needed. Even though the want, the sheer physical ache to possess her, was killing him.

‘No need to be. I’m here to fight battles for you. Never forget that.’

At last her smile reached her eyes. ‘You’re sure about that?’

She looked so cute he wanted to kiss the tip of her nose.

He stepped around the counter towards her at the same time she moved towards him. He took both her hands in his and pulled her to him. This time she didn’t resist. Her face was very close. That warm vanilla scent of hers was already so familiar.

‘As sure as I am about taking that second chance we’ve been offered. Let’s give it everything we’ve got in the next four days. Turn back the clock.’

She stared at him. He couldn’t blame her for being surprised at his turnaround. The shadow behind her eyes was not completely gone. Had she told him everything that was worrying her?

‘Are you serious?’ she choked out.

‘Very.’

She reached up her hand to stroke the side of his cheek. As if checking he was real. When it came, her smile was tender and her eyes were warm. ‘I’m so happy to hear you say that. It’s just that...’ She paused

‘What?’ he asked.

‘All these expectations on us. It...it’s daunting. And what will we tell people?’

‘Nothing. Let them figure it out for themselves.’ He gripped her hands. ‘This is just about you and me. It’s always just been you and me.’

‘And we—’

‘Enough with the talking,’ he growled, and he silenced her with a kiss.

A kiss to seal their bargain. A kiss to tell her what words could not.

But the kiss rapidly escalated to something hot and hungry and urgent. She matched his urgency with lips, teeth, tongue. He let go her hands so he could pull her tight. Her curves shaped to him as though they were made to fit and she wound her arms around his neck to pull him closer. The strap of her yellow dress slid off her shoulder. He wanted to slide the dress right off her.

He broke away from the kiss, his breath hard and ragged. ‘We’re out of here. To get some privacy.’

‘Wh...what about the shop?’ Her own ragged breathing made her barely coherent.

‘How many books have you sold today?’

‘Just...just a few.’

‘Yeah. Not many customers. Too many gossips.’ He stroked the bare warm skin on her shoulder, exalted in her shiver of response.

‘They did seem to spend more time lurking around corners and looking at me than browsing,’ she admitted.

Her hands slid through his hair with an unconscious sensuality that made him shudder with want.

‘You shut down the computer. I’ll set the alarm.’

‘But Ida...’

‘Don’t worry about Ida.’ He could easily make up to his aunt for any drop in sales figures.

Sandy started to say something. He silenced her with another kiss. She moaned a throaty little sound that made him all the more determined to get her out of here and to somewhere private, where he could kiss her without an audience.

The old-fashioned doorbell on the top of the shop door jangled loudly.

Sandy froze in his arms. Then she pulled away from him, cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused. Her quiet groan of frustration echoed his. She pressed a quick, hard kiss on his mouth and looked up wordlessly at him.

To anyone coming into the store they would look as guilty as the pair of teenagers they’d once been. He rolled his eyes. Sandy started to shake with repressed giggles.

He kept his arm firmly around her as they turned to face the two middle-aged women who had entered the shop. Both friends of his mother.

Two sets of eyebrows had risen practically to their hairlines.

News of kiss number two for the day would be rapidly telegraphed through the town.

And he didn’t give a damn.

‘Sorry, ladies,’ he said, in a voice that put paid to any argument. ‘This shop is closed.’

CHAPTER TEN

DESTINATION? SOMEWHERE THEY could have privacy. Purpose? To talk more freely about what had happened to each other in the twelve years since she’d left Dolphin Bay. And Sandy didn’t give a flying fig that the two bemused ladies Ben had ousted from Bay Books stood hands on hips and watched as she and Ben hastened away from the shop.

Even just metres down the street she fell out of step with Ben and had to skip to catch up. He turned to wait for her, suppressed laughter still dancing around his mouth, and extended his hand for her to take.

Sandy hesitated for only a second before she slid her fingers through his. Linked hands would make quite a statement to the good folk of Dolphin Bay. Anticipation and excitement throbbed through her as he tightened his warm, strong grip and pulled her closer. She smiled up at him, her breath catching in her throat at his answering smile.

When she’d very first held hands with Ben the simple act had been a big deal for her. Most of her schoolfriends had already had sex with their boyfriends by the age of eighteen. Not her. She’d never met a boy she’d wanted to do more with than kiss. When she’d met Ben she’d still been debating the significance of hands held with just palms locked or, way sexier, with fingers entwined.

And Ben?

Back then he’d had no scars.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, surprised when her voice came out edged with nervousness.

‘My place,’ he said. His voice didn’t sound nervous in the slightest.

Did he live at the hotel? That would make sense. Maybe in an apartment as luxurious as the room where she was staying.

‘Do you remember my family’s old boathouse?’ he asked as he led her down the steps in front of the hotel.

‘Of course I do,’ she said, and she felt herself colour. Thirty years old and blushing at the memory of that ramshackle old boathouse. Dear heaven, she hoped he didn’t notice.

On the sand outside the boathouse, in the shelter of Ben’s father’s beached dinghies, she and Ben had progressed from first base to not-ready-to-progress-further-than-third.

She glanced quickly up at Ben. Oh, yes, he remembered too. The expression in those deep blue eyes made that loud and clear.

She blushed a shade pinker and shivered at the memory of all that thwarted teen sexuality—and at the thought of how it might feel to finally do something about it if she and Ben got to that stage this time around.

‘I live in the boathouse,’ he said.

‘You live there?’ She didn’t know what else to say that would not come out sounding ill-mannered.

Instead, she followed Ben across the sand in silence, wondering why a successful businessman would choose to live in something that was no more than a shack.

But the structure that sat a short distance to the right of the hotel bore little resemblance to the down-at-heel structure of her memory. Like so much of Dolphin Bay, it had changed beyond recognition.

‘Wow! I’m impressed,’ she said.

Ben’s remodelled boathouse home looked like something that could star on a postcard. Supported by piers on the edge of the bay, its dock led out into the water. Timber-panelled walls were weathered to a silvery grey in perfect harmony with the corrugated iron of the peaked roof. Window trim and carriage lamps had been picked out in a deep dusky blue. Big tubs of purple hydrangeas in glazed blue pots sat either side of the door.

Ben leaned down to pluck a dead leaf from one of the plants without even seeming to realise he did it. She wouldn’t have taken him for a gardener—but then she knew so very little of what interests he might have developed in the years since they’d last been together at this rich-in-memories part of the beach.

‘The boathouse was the only part of the guesthouse to survive the fire,’ Ben said. He pushed open the glossy blue door. ‘Jesse lived here before he went away. I had it remodelled as guest accommodation, but liked it so much I kept it for myself.’

‘I can see why,’ she said. ‘I envy you.’

A large ceramic dog bowl filled with water, hand-painted with the words ‘Hobo Drinks Here’, sat just outside the door. She remembered the look of devotion in the dog’s big eyes and Ben’s obvious love for him.

‘Where’s your adorable dog?’ she asked, stepping through the door he held open for her, fully expecting the retriever to give Ben a boisterous greeting.

‘Mum dog-sits him the days I can’t take him to work with me,’ he said. ‘Seems she always has a houseful of strays. He fits right in.’

Sandy was about to say something about his mother, but the words were stopped by her second, ‘Wow!’ as Ben stepped aside and she got her first glimpse of the interior of the boathouse.

She only had a moment to take in a large open-plan space, bleached timber and shades of white, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the water at the living room end and a vast wooden bed at the other.

The thought that it would be a fabulous location for an advertising shoot barely had time to register in her mind, because the door slammed shut behind them and she was in Ben’s arms.

* * *

Ben didn’t want to give a tour of the boathouse. He didn’t want to talk about the architectural work Jesse had done on the old building. He just wanted, at last, to have Sandy to himself.

For a long, still moment he held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He closed his eyes, breathed in the vanilla scent of her hair, scarcely able to believe it was real and she was here with him. He could feel the warm sigh of her breath on his neck, hear the thud-thud-thud of her heartbeat. Then he kissed her. He kissed the curve of her throat. He kissed the delicate hollow beneath her ear. He pressed small, hungry kisses along the line of her jaw. Then he kissed her on the mouth.

Without hesitation Sandy kissed him right back. She tasted of coffee and chocolate and her own familiar sweetness. As she wound her arms around his neck, met his tongue with hers, she made that sexy little murmur deep in her throat that he remembered from a long time ago. It drove him nearly crazy with want.

Secure in the privacy of the boathouse, he kissed her long enough for them to catch right up on the way they’d explored kissing each other all those years ago. Until kissing no longer seemed enough.

The straps of her yellow dress gave little resistance as he slid them down her smooth shoulders. She shrugged to make it easier for him. Without the support of the straps, the top of her dress fell open. He could see the edge of her bra, the swell of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples. He kissed down her neck and across the roundness of her breasts, until she gasped and her hands curled tightly into his shoulders.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

But with an intense effort he forced himself to pull back. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No,’ she said immediately. ‘Not yet. I couldn’t bear it if you stopped.’

In reply, he scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes widened with surprise and excitement. Her arms tightened around his neck and she snuggled her cheek against his shoulder.

She laughed as he marched her towards the bedroom end of the boathouse. ‘Even more muscles than when you were nineteen,’ she murmured in exaggerated admiration, her voice husky with desire.

She was still laughing as he laid her on the bed—his big, lonely bed. Her dress was rucked up around her slender tanned thighs, giving him a tantalising glimpse of red panties. She kicked off her shoes into the air, laughed again as they fell to the wooden floor with two soft thuds. Then she held out her arms to urge him to join her. Warm, vibrant Sandy, just as he remembered her. Only more womanly, more confident, more seductive.

He kicked off his own shoes and lay down next to her. He leaned over her as she lay back against the pillows, her face flushed, her eyes wide.

‘I never thought I’d see you back here.’ His voice was hoarse with need for her.

She kissed him. ‘Do you remember the sand outside this place? How scratchy it was?’ she asked. ‘How we’d sneak off there whenever we could get away from everyone.’

‘How could I forget?’ he replied. Ever since she’d walked into the hotel and back into his life he’d thought of little else.

‘This is so much more comfortable,’ she said, with on-purpose seduction in her smile. She pulled him down to her to kiss him again. ‘And private,’ she murmured against his mouth.

Her kiss was urgent, hungry, and he responded in kind. Outside on that sand as teenagers they’d fooled around as though they had all the time in the world. Now they had a clock ticking on their reunion. And they were playing grown-up games.

Within minutes he’d rid her of her dress and her bra. He explored the lush new fullness of her breasts. Kissed and teased her nipples.

He lifted his head and she made a murmur of protest. His voice was ragged. ‘You sure you’re ready for this?’

Sandy’s eyes were huge. ‘I should say no. I should say we need to spend more time together first, that we can’t rush into anything we might regret.’ Her voice broke. ‘But I can’t say no. I want you too much. Have always wanted you... Don’t stop, Ben. Please don’t stop.’

What she’d said about not rushing made sense. This was going faster than he could have anticipated. He should be the sensible one. Should stop it. But he was beyond thinking sensibly when it came to Sandy. He only had four days with her.

She kissed him. He kissed her back and was done for. The last restraints gone. He stroked down the curve of her belly, felt her tremble at his touch. Then her panties were gone and he explored there too.

‘Not fair. I want to get you naked as well,’ she murmured as she started to divest him of his clothes.

She kissed a hot trail across his chest as she slid off his shirt, stroked right down his arms. Her fingers weren’t quite steady as she fumbled with the zipper on his shorts. It made the act of pulling them over his hips a series of tantalising caresses along his butt and thighs that made his body harden so much it ached.

Then they were naked together.

* * *

Sandy’s heart was doing the flipping over thing so rapidly she felt dizzy. Or maybe the dizziness was from the desire that throbbed through her, that made her press her body close to Ben. Close. Closer. Not close enough.

Did that urgent whimper come from her as Ben teased her taut nipples with his tongue? As he stroked her belly and below until she bucked against his hand with need? She gasped for breath as ripples of pleasure pulsed everywhere he touched. Revelled in the intensity of the intimacy they were sharing.

This was further than they’d gone the last time they’d been on this beach together. Now she wanted more. Much more. He was as ready for her as she was for him. She shifted her hips to accommodate him, to welcome him—at last.

Then she stilled at the same time as he did. Spoke at the same time as he did.

‘Protection.’

‘Birth control.’

He groaned, pressed a hard, urgent kiss against her mouth, then swung himself off the bed.

Sandy felt bereft of his warmth and presence. The bed seemed very big and empty without him. Hurry, hurry, hurry back! She wriggled on the quilt in an ecstasy of anticipation, pressed her thighs together hard. Twelve years she’d waited, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

But she contained her impatience enough to watch in sensual appreciation as Ben, buck naked, strode without a trace of self-consciousness towards the tall dresser at the other side of the bed. He was magnificent, her surf god, in just his skin. Broad shoulders tapering to the tight defined muscles of his back; firm, strong buttocks, pale against the tan of the rest of him; long, muscular legs. A wave of pure longing for him swept through her and she gripped her hands tight by her sides.

He reached the dresser, pulled out the top drawer.

Yes! Get the protection and get back here. Pronto!

But he hesitated—that taut, magnificent body was suddenly very still. Then he reached for a small framed photo that stood on the top of the dresser. It was too far away for Sandy to make out the details, just that there was a woman. Ben picked it up and slid it into the drawer, face downwards.

Sandy caught her breath.

Jodi. The photo must be of Jodi.

Ben didn’t want her to see it. Didn’t want Jodi seeing her naked on his bed.

And that was okay. Of course it was.

She had absolutely no reason to be upset by his action. He’d told her his late wife had loved him so unselfishly that she didn’t want him to be alone. Sandy couldn’t allow herself even a twinge of jealousy that Jodi had been the perfect wife.

But the desire that had been simmering though her suddenly went right off the boil. Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered. She pulled herself up on her elbows, looked around for something to cover her nakedness. She found his shirt, clutched it against her. It was still warm from his body heat.

Ben’s gaze caught hers in a long, silent connection. Sandy’s throat tightened. He knew she’d seen. But he didn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. Knew she couldn’t ask—in spite of his earlier frankness.

She realised with a painful stab of recognition that Ben had gone so far away, in such a different direction from the youth they’d shared, that she didn’t know him at all any more. For all they’d shared over the last twenty-four hours, today’s Ben had been forged by loss and grief beyond her comprehension.

She’d loved Ben back then, with the fierce intensity of first love. But now? How could she love him when she didn’t know him any more? Wasn’t this just physical attraction she was feeling? She had never had sex without love. The fact was, though, she was the one who had encouraged this encounter. How could she back down now?

And yet his look of excited yet respectful anticipation made her swell with emotion. Did she love him again already? Was that what the heart-flipping thing was all about? Had her heart just taken up where it had left off twelve years ago? What if these four days were all she would ever have of him?

Desire warmed her again. She wanted him. She would take the chance.

She smiled as Ben impatiently pulled open the drawer. But the smile froze as he continued to dig through the contents. He swore. Slammed the door shut. Looked through another drawer. Then another. He threw out his hands in a gesture to indicate emptiness.

‘None. No protection. You got any?’ His voice was a burr of frustration and anger and something that could have been despair.

‘No. I...uh...don’t carry it with me.’

She’d had no use for protection for a long time. Seemed as if Ben was in the same boat.

He strode back and sat on the bed next to her. He smoothed back a lock of hair that had drifted across her cheek in a caress that was both gentle and sensual.

‘I want you so much. But I won’t risk getting you pregnant.’

An unplanned pregnancy wasn’t on her agenda either. No way would she suggest taking that risk, much as she yearned for him. ‘I’m not on the pill. S...sorry.’

‘Why should you apologise?’ He groaned. ‘I should have—’

‘Could we...could we go buy some?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew that was a ridiculous idea. Ben acknowledged it with a grim smile. No doubt some busybody citizen of Dolphin Bay would be behind the counter at the pharmacy and only too eager to broadcast the news that Ben and his old girlfriend were in need of contraceptives.

‘Okay...bad idea.’ She didn’t know what else she could say.

Ben’s handsome face was contorted with frustration, his voice underscored with anguish. ‘Sandy. You have to know I won’t be a father again. Won’t have another child. Not after what happened to my little boy. Can’t risk that loss...that pain.’

Oh, Ben. Her heart felt as if it was tearing in sorrow for him, for the losses she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

‘I...I understand,’ she stuttered. But did she? Could she ever comprehend the agony he felt at losing his child? ‘D...do you want to talk about it?’

He shifted his body further from her. But more than a physical distance loomed between them. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

‘You have a right to know why I feel this way.’

‘Of course,’ she murmured.

‘When my mother knew Liam was on the way she told me that I wouldn’t know what love was until I held my first child in my arms. I scoffed at her. I thought I knew what it was to love.’

‘Lizzie said something similar after Amy was born.’

Ben swallowed hard. It must be agony for him to relive his memories.

‘A father’s love—it was so unexpected. So overwhelming. My mother was right. I would have done anything for my son.’

‘Of course you would have,’ she murmured, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what to say—a thirty-year-old single whose only experience of loving a child was her niece.

‘Changing nappies. Getting up at all hours of the night the minute I heard a whimper. Rocking him in my arms for hours to soothe him when he was teething. I did all that. But...but I couldn’t save his life.’

Survivor’s guilt. Post-traumatic stress. Labels she thought might apply—but what did she know about how to help him?

‘Ben, you’re carrying a big burden. Did you have counselling to help you come to terms with your loss?’

As soon as the question left her mouth she knew it was a mistake. Ben so obviously hadn’t come to terms with it.

His eyes were as bleak as a storm-tossed sea. ‘I had counselling. But nothing can change the fact I couldn’t save my baby son. End of story. On the day I buried him I vowed I would never have another child.’

‘Because...because you think you don’t deserve another child?’

‘That too. But I couldn’t bear the agony of loss again.’

She knew it wasn’t the time to say that new life could bring new hope. That there was the possibility of loss any time you put your heart on the line. But how could she possibly understand what he’d gone through? Could she blame him for never wanting to risk finding himself in that unimaginably dark place again?

‘Ben, I’m so sad for you.’ She took his scarred, damaged hand in hers and squeezed it, wanting him to know how much she felt for him but was unable to express. He put his arms around her and pulled her tight. She nestled her face just below his shoulder, against the warm, solid muscle of his chest.

But she was sad for herself, too.

She thought back to her birthday goals. Get married and have lots of kids. Three kids—two girls and a boy.

It was as if Ben had read her mind. ‘Remember how we used to talk about having kids? When were barely more than kids ourselves?’

‘Yes,’ she said. She swallowed hard against the lump of disappointment that threatened to choke her. She’d always seen being a mother in her future. Had never contemplated any other option.

He pulled back from her and she was forced to meet his gaze.

‘So me not wanting kids could be a deal-breaker?’

She had to clear her throat before she answered, trying not to let him guess how shaken she was. ‘Perhaps. For something long-term. But we’re only talking four days, aren’t we? It doesn’t matter for...for a fling.’

‘I guess not. But I wanted to make sure you knew where I stood.’

At the age of thirty she couldn’t afford to waste time on any relationship—no matter how brief—that didn’t have the possibility of children. Knowing that parenthood wasn’t an option for Ben should make her pack up and leave Dolphin Bay right now. But she didn’t have to think further than four days—and nothing could stop her from having this time with Ben. Come what may.

‘I’m sorry, Sandy,’ said Ben. ‘This wasn’t the way I thought things would pan out today.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I...I’ve lost the mood,’ she confessed.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious being naked. With a murmur about being cold she disengaged herself from his arms. Fumbled around on the bed and found her dress. Pulled it over her head without bothering about wasting minutes with her bra. Wiggled into her panties. Found his clothes and handed them to him.

She felt very alone when he turned his back to her and dressed in awkward silence.

She sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong. ‘Sunny Sandy’, Ben had used to call her. But it was hard to see the glass-half-full side of finding out that he didn’t ever want to have another child. And then there was that photo. How ready was he really to move on to another woman?

* * *

Ben wanted to pound the wall with his fists to vent his frustration and anger. He wanted to swear and curse. To fight his way through raging surf might help, too.

But he could do none of that. Sandy looked so woebegone sitting there, biting on her lip, her arms crossed defensively across her beautiful breasts. He had to control himself. Do anything in his power to reignite her smile.

His revelation that he didn’t want more children had knocked the sunshine out of her. He appreciated how kind she’d been, how understanding, but dismay had shown on her face. But he’d had to put his cards on the table about a future with no children. He couldn’t mislead her on such an important issue. Not that they were talking beyond these four days.

He reached out, took both her hands and pulled her to her feet.

‘Sandy, I’m sorry—’ he started.

‘Don’t say it again,’ she said with a tremulous smile, and put her finger to his mouth. ‘I’m sure we’ll laugh about it one day.’

He snorted his disbelief. He would never see the humour in what had happened. Or had not happened.

‘So what now?’ she asked. ‘Do I go back to the bookshop?’

He tightened his grip on her hands. ‘No way. It’s shut for the day. You’re staying with me. We’ll have lunch, then tonight I want to take you to a dinner dance.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘A dinner dance? In Dolphin Bay?’

She was such a city girl. She had no idea of how much the town had grown. How big his role as a business leader had become.

‘The Chamber of Commerce annual awards night is being held at the hotel. As president, I’m presenting the awards. I’d like you to come.’

‘As...as your date?’

‘As my date.’

Her smile lit the golden sparks in her eyes in the way he remembered. ‘I’d like that. This could be fun.’

‘The speeches? Not so much. But there’ll be a band and dancing afterwards.’

‘Do you remember—?’ she started.

‘The dance?’

‘I couldn’t believe it when you asked me to dance with you.’

‘I wasn’t sure you’d say yes. You were the most beautiful girl there.’

She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. ‘Thank you for saying that.’

‘You’ll be the most beautiful girl there tonight.’

That earned him another kiss.

‘Will I know anyone?’

‘My parents. My brother, Jesse—he’s back home for a couple days. Kate...’

Sandy’s face tightened at the sound of Kate’s name.

‘Kate has a big mouth, but she also has a big heart,’ he said.

‘She can be confrontational.’

‘Don’t judge her too harshly. She means well.’ He didn’t want Sandy to feel alienated during her time in Dolphin Bay. That was one of the reasons he’d asked her to be his date for tonight, to go public with him. Encouraging a friendship with Kate was another.

‘I’m sure she does. It’s just that...’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, with an impish twist to her mouth.

He wasn’t in the mood to argue with a female ‘nothing’. ‘C’mon. I’ll make us some lunch.’

He kept her hand in his as he led her towards the kitchen.

‘I didn’t know you could cook,’ she said.

She didn’t know a lot about him. Some things she might never know. But his cooking prowess—or lack of it—was no secret.

‘Basic guy-type stuff. Mostly I eat at the hotel. We could order room service if you want.’

‘No. I like the idea of you cooking for me.’

She started to say something else but stopped herself. He wondered if her ex had ever cooked for her. He sounded like a selfish creep, so that was probably a no.

‘What’s on the menu, chef?’ she asked.

‘Take your pick. Toasted cheese sandwich or...’ he paused for dramatic emphasis ‘...toasted cheese sandwich.’

‘With ketchup? And Snickers for dessert? I have some in my handbag.’

‘Done,’ he said as he headed towards the fridge.

Without realising it, he started to whistle. He stopped himself. Why would he want to whistle when he was furious at himself for the disaster in the bedroom and fresh with the memories of his loss?

‘That’s a sound I haven’t heard for a long time,’ Sandy said as she settled herself on one of the bar stools that lined the kitchen counter.

‘It’s rusty from disuse,’ he said.

‘No, it isn’t. I like it. Don’t stop. Please.’

Her eyes were warm with concern and understanding. Her yellow dress flashed bright in the cool, neutral tones of the kitchen. Her brown hair glinted golden in the sunshine that filtered through the porthole windows. Sandy. Here in his home. The only woman he had brought here apart from his mother and the maids from the hotel who kept it clean.

He picked up the tune from where he had left off and started to whistle again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SANDY WAS ONLY too aware that every detail of her appearance would be scrutinised by the other guests at the Chamber of Commerce dinner dance. Every nuance of her interaction with Ben would be fuel for the gossipmongers of Dolphin Bay.

In one way it amused her. In another it scared her witless.

In spite of Ben’s reassurances Kate’s warning still disconcerted her. All the people who would be there tonight knew Ben. Had known Jodi. Had even—and her heart twisted painfully at the thought—known his baby son. She wouldn’t be human if that didn’t worry her.

She wished she and Ben could spend the entire time they had together alone in his boathouse home. Just him and her, and no one else to poke their noses into the one step forward and two steps back of their reunion. But it seemed it would be played out on the open stage of Ben’s tight-knit community.

Thank heaven she’d packed a take-her-anywhere outfit for Melbourne. She checked her image in the mirror of her hotel room with a mega-critical eye. Dress? Red, strapless, short but not too short. Jewellery? A simple yet striking gold pendant and a blatantly fake ruby-studded gold cuff from one of her fashion accessory clients. Shoes? Red, sparkling, towering heels. She thought she would pass muster.

The look in Ben’s eyes when he came to her room to pick her up told her she’d got it right.

For a moment he stood speechless—a fact that pleased her inordinately. He cleared his throat. ‘You look amazing,’ he said.

Amazing was too inadequate a word to describe how Ben looked in a tuxedo. The immaculately tailored black suit emphasised his height and the breadth of his shoulders, and set off the brilliant blue of his eyes. There was little trace of the teen surfer in the urbane adult who stood before her in the doorway to her room, but she didn’t mourn that. The crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the cropped darker hair, only added to his appeal. It struck her that if she met the grown-up Ben now, for the first time, as a total stranger, she’d be wildly attracted to him.

For a moment she was tempted to wind her arms around his neck and lure him into her room with whispered words of seduction. She thought of the birth control she had discovered tucked into a corner of her suitcase, accompanied by a saucy note from her sister, Lizzie: In case you get lucky in Melbourne.

But Ben had official duties to perform. She couldn’t make him late.

‘You look amazing yourself,’ she said. She narrowed her eyes in a mock-appraising way. ‘Kinda like a surf god crossed with a tycoon god.’

He rolled his eyes at her words but smiled. ‘If you say so.’

Her stratospheric heels brought her to kissing distance from his face. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, but he moved his face so her lips connected with his mouth. She nearly swooned at the rush of desire that hit her. As she felt his tongue slip familiarly into her mouth she calculated how much time they had before they were due at the dinner dance. Ten minutes. Not enough time for what she needed from Ben if things were going to get physical again.

Besides, she wasn’t so sure that was the way to go when their time together was so short. She didn’t want to leave Dolphin Bay with a pulverised heart.

With a deep sigh of regret, she pulled away.

‘C’mon, haven’t you got awards to present?’ she said.

She slipped her arm through his and they headed towards the elevator.

* * *

The first person Sandy saw when she walked with Ben into the hotel conference room where the dinner dance was being held was his mother. She clutched Ben’s arm, shocked at the feeling of being cast back in time.

Maura Morgan had been wearing jeans and a T-shirt the last time she’d seen her; now she was wearing an elegant brocade dress. She was handsome, rather than beautiful, and she’d hardly changed in the intervening years. Her hair held a few more strands of grey, her figure was a tad more generous, but her smile was the same warm, welcoming smile that had made Sandy’s stay at the guesthouse all those years ago so happy. And her voice still held that hint of a lyrical Irish accent that was a legacy of her girlhood in Dublin.

‘Eh, Sandy, it’s grand to see you. Who would have thought we’d see you here after all these years?’ The older woman swept her into a warm hug.

‘It’s wonderful to see you again.’ It was all Sandy could think of to say. But she meant every word. That summer, so long ago, there had been a wire of tension between her parents that at times had come close to snapping. Maura had been kind to her, and covered for her with her father when she’d snuck out to meet Ben.

Maura stepped back, with her hands still on Sandy’s shoulders. ‘Look at you, all grown up and even lovelier than when you were a girl—and friends with Ben again.’ Her face stilled. ‘Fate works in amazing ways.’

‘It sure does,’ Sandy agreed, reluctant to talk more deeply with Ben’s mother. Not wanting to bring up the tragedies that had occurred since her last visit. She didn’t know what Ben had told Maura about her reasons for staying in Dolphin Bay. The reignited feelings between her and Ben were so fragile—still just little sparks—she wanted to hug them close.

Maura released her. ‘Your mum and dad...?’

Sandy shrugged. ‘Divorced.’

Maura shook her head slowly. ‘Why does that not surprise me? And your sister?’

‘Lizzie’s still my best friend. She has a little girl, Amy, who’s five years old and a real cutie.’

As soon as she mentioned Amy, Sandy wished she hadn’t. Ben’s son Liam had been Maura’s only grandchild. But Maura’s smile didn’t dim. ‘It’s lovely to hear that,’ she said. ‘And do you—?’

Ben interrupted. ‘Mum, I’ve sat you and Dad at my table so you’ll get a chance to talk to Sandy during the evening.

Maura laughed. ‘So quit the interrogation? I hadn’t yet asked Sandy if she has room in her heart for a homeless puppy.’

Ben groaned, but Sandy could hear the smile in his protest.

‘A puppy? I’d love one,’ she said without hesitation. ‘That is if...’ Her voice trailed away. Get dog of own once settled in Melbourne. Could she really commit to a dog when her future had become so uncertain? Until she knew exactly how she felt about Ben at the end of the four days?

Maura patted her hand. ‘I won’t hold you to the puppy until we’ve talked some more.’

The genuine warmth in her voice did a lot to reassure Sandy that Maura did not appear to have any objection to her reunion with Ben.

She felt she could face the rest of the evening with a degree less dread.

* * *

Sandy outshone any other woman in the room, Ben thought as he watched her charm the bank manager and his wife. It wasn’t just the red dress, or the way the light caught her glittery shoes just like that darn fairy dust. It had more to do with the vivacity of her smile, the way her eyes gleamed with genuine interest at the details of the couple’s daughter’s high school results. He knew she was nervous, but no one would guess it.

It was a big, public step to bring her tonight—and he was glad he’d made it. It felt good to have her by his side. Instead of ill-disguised sorrow or embarrassed pity, he saw approval in the eyes of his family and friends. It was a big step forward.

But for the first time since he’d been elected president of the chamber Ben resented his duties. He didn’t want to make polite chit-chat with the guests. He didn’t want to get up there on stage and make a speech about the business community’s achievements. Or announce the awards. He wanted to spend every second of the time he had left with Sandy—alone with her. They had less than four days—three days now—of catching up to do. If that included being behind closed doors, slowly divesting Sandy of that red dress and making love to her all night long, that was good too.

‘We must catch up for coffee some time,’ the banker’s wife gushed in farewell to Sandy as Ben took Sandy’s elbow to steer her away towards his table. He wanted her seated and introduced to everyone else at the table before he had to take his place on stage for the awards presentation.

‘I’d like that,’ Sandy called over her shoulder to the banker’s wife as Ben led her away.

‘Would you?’ he asked in an undertone.

‘Of course. She seems like a nice lady. But not any time soon.’ She edged closer so she could murmur into his ear. ‘We’ve only got a few days together. I want to spend every second of my spare time with you.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he said.

It felt unexpectedly good, being part of a couple again—even if only temporarily. He’d been on his own for so long. Maybe too long. But his guilt and regret still gnawed at him, punishing him, stopping him from getting close to anyone.

And now Sandy was back with him in Dolphin Bay.

The president’s table was at the front of the room. His parents were already seated around it, along with Kate, his brother, Jesse, and two of the awards finalists—both women.

If his father remembered how disparaging he had been all those years ago about the sincerity of a city girl’s feelings towards his son, he didn’t show it. In his gruff way he made Sandy welcome.

Jesse couldn’t hide the admiration in his eyes as he rose from his seat to greet Sandy. ‘I would have recognised you straight away,’ his brother said as he kissed her on the cheek.

Ben introduced Sandy to the awards finalists, then settled her into the seat between him and Kate. ‘I have to finalise the order of proceedings. I’ll be back in five minutes—in time for the appetiser,’ he said.

He wanted to kiss Sandy. Claim her as more than a friend in front of all eyes. But it wasn’t the right time. Instead, he brushed his hand over her bare shoulder in parting before he headed backstage. Only Kate’s big grin made him realise the simple gesture was more a sign of possession than a friendly kiss on Sandy’s cheek would ever have been.

* * *

Sandy heaved a quiet sigh of relief as she sank into her chair. The worst of the ordeal was behind her. From the moment she’d entered the room she’d been aware of the undercurrent of interest in her presence beside Ben. Her mouth ached from smiling. From formulating answers in reply to questions about how long she intended to be in town. Even though Ben had smoothed the way, she felt she was being judged on every word she spoke. She reached gratefully for her glass of white wine.

Ben’s empty seat was to her left, between her and Kate. Tall, dark-haired Jesse—every bit as handsome as in her memories of him—sat on the other side of her, engaged in conversation with his mother.

Kate sidled close enough to whisper to Sandy. ‘Note that Ben didn’t sit me next to Jesse. Probably worried I’d fling myself on his brother, wrestle him to the ground and have my way with him under the table.’

Sandy nearly choked on her drink. ‘Really?’

‘Nah. Just kidding. I actually asked him not to put me near Jesse.’ Kate’s green eyes clouded. ‘It’s hard to make small-talk with the guy I’ve wanted all my life when he sees me as more sister than woman.’

‘Can’t he see how gorgeous you are?’ Sandy asked. In an emerald silk dress that clung to her curves and flattered the auburn of her hair, Kate looked anything but the girl next door.

Kate pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘Thanks. But it doesn’t matter what I wear. To Jesse I’ll always just be good old Kate, his childhood pal.’

‘You never dated him?’

‘We kissed when I was thirteen and he was fourteen. I never stopped wanting him after that.’

‘And Jesse?’

Kate shrugged. ‘He was a shy kid, and I guess I was a convenient experiment. It never happened again. Though I must have relived it a million times.’

‘He certainly doesn’t look shy now.’

Jesse’s full attention was beamed on the attractive blonde award finalist.

‘Yep. He’s quite the man of the world these days, and quite the flirt.’ Kate kept her gaze on Jesse for a moment too long before returning it to Sandy.

Sandy’s heart went out to Kate. ‘That must be so tough for you. Ben told me Jesse’s only visiting for a few days.’

‘Yes. Jesse leads a construction team that builds low-cost housing in areas that have been destroyed by natural disasters. Think India, Africa, New Orleans. He only ever comes here between assignments.’

Sandy glanced again at Jesse. ‘Good looks and a kind heart. No wonder you’re hooked on him.’

‘Kind hearts run in the Morgan family—as I think you well know.’

Was Kate about to give her another lecture about Ben? If so, she wasn’t in the mood to hear it. ‘Kate, I—’

Kate laughed and threw her hands up in a gesture of self-defence. ‘I’m staying right out of the you-and-Ben thing. I’ve been warned.’

‘Warned? By Ben?’

‘Of course by Ben. You’re important to him. Ben protects the people he cares about.’

Sandy loved the feeling Kate’s words gave her. But, again, she sensed she might be getting out of her depth. Three more days in Dolphin Bay. That was all she was talking about after this evening. Deep in her heart, though, she knew there was a chance it could end up as so much more than that. She didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified at the prospect.

* * *

After the starter course Ben took his place on stage. To Sandy, he looked imposing and every inch the powerful executive as he took the microphone to give a brief review of the year’s past business activities. From the applause and occasional catcall from the audience it was apparent Ben was still very much the town’s favourite son.

As he made a particularly pertinent point about the growth in revenue tourism had brought to Dolphin Bay Sandy thought she would burst with pride at his achievements, and at the way he had overcome such tragedy to get to this place. She wanted to get up from her seat and cheer. She caught his mother Maura’s eye and saw the same pride and joy reflected in her face.

Maura acknowledged the thread of emotion that united them with a smile and a brief nod, before turning back to face the stage and applaud the end of Ben’s speech.

Sandy smiled back—a wobbly, not very successful smile. Maura knew. She bit her lip and shredded the edge of her dolphin-printed serviette without really realising she was doing so.

Could she kid herself any further that all she wanted from Ben was a fling? Could she deny that if she didn’t protect her heart she might fall right back in love? And then where would she be, if Ben decided four days of her was enough?

CHAPTER TWELVE

BUT SANDY’S HEART was singing as she danced with Ben. He danced as he’d danced with her that first time twelve years ago, and it seemed as if the years in between had never happened. Although they kept a respectable distance apart their bodies were in tune, hips swaying in unison with each other, feet moving to the same beat.

Most of the people in the room had also got up to dance once the formalities of the evening were done, but Sandy was scarcely aware of them. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Ben or stop herself from ‘accidentally’ touching him at any opportunity—shoulders brushing, hips bumping, her hand skimming his as they moved their bodies in time to the music of a surprisingly good local band. And, in spite of the other guests’ ill-concealed interest in the fact they were dancing together, Ben did nothing to move away.

She longed to be alone with him. He had rhythm, he had energy, he had power in that big, well-built body—and she ached to have it all directed to her. Upstairs in her bedroom.

When the band changed to slow dancing music, she was done for. As Ben pulled her into his arms and fitted his body close to her she wound her arms around her neck and sighed. ‘How much longer do we have to endure this torture? If I have to explain to one more person than I’m just here for a few more days, I’ll scream.’

‘Same. The strain of all this focus on us is too much.’

‘How much longer do we have to stay?’

He nuzzled into her neck, murmured low and husky. ‘See those doors that open up to the balcony?’

She looked across the room. ‘Yes.’

‘We’re going to dance our way over there and out on to the balcony, as if we’re going for some fresh air—’

‘Won’t everyone think we’ve gone to make out?’

‘Who cares?’ He pulled her tighter. ‘That way we don’t have to announce our escape by exiting through the main doors.’

‘What about your duties?’

‘I’m done with duty.’

‘So now you’re all mine for the rest of the evening?’ she murmured, with a provocative tilt of her head.

His eyes darkened to a deeper shade of blue and his grip tightened on her back. ‘From the balcony we’ll take the door to the empty conference room next door and then to the foyer.’

‘And then?’ Her voice caught in her throat.

‘That’s up to you.’

Her heart started doing the flippy thing so fast she felt dizzy. She pulled his head even closer to hers, brushed her lips across his cheek. ‘Let’s go,’ she murmured.

He steered her through the crowd, exchanging quick greetings with the people they brushed past, but not halting for a moment longer than necessary. Sandy nodded, smiled, made polite responses, held on to his hand and followed his lead.

They sidled along the balcony, then burst into the empty conference room next door, laughing like truant schoolkids. Ben shut the door behind him and braced it in mock defence with an exultant whoop of triumph.

Sandy felt high on the same exhilaration she’d felt as a teenager, when Ben and she had successfully snuck away from their parents. She opened her mouth to share that thought with him, but before she could form the words to congratulate him on their clever escape he kissed her.

His kiss was hard and hungry, free of doubt or second thoughts. She kissed him back, matching his ardour. Then broke the kiss.

She took a few deep breaths to steady her thoughts. ‘Ben, I’m concerned we’re moving too fast. What do you think?’

Ben glanced at his watch. ‘This day is nearly over. That leaves us three days. I want you, Sandy. I’ve always wanted you.’

‘But what if we regret it? What if you—?’ She was so aware of how big a deal it was for him to be with her. And the heartbreak she risked by falling for him again. She feared once she made love with him she would never want to leave him.

‘I’ll regret it more if we don’t take this chance to be together. On our terms. No one else’s.’

‘Me too,’ she said. No matter what happened after these three remaining days, she never wanted to feel again the regret that had haunted her all those years ago.

Please, let this be our time at last.

‘My room or yours?’ she said, putting up her face to be kissed again.

* * *

Ben couldn’t bear to let go of Sandy even for a second. Still kissing her, he walked her through the door, out of the conference room and into the corridor. Still kissing her, he punched the elevator’s ‘up’ button.

As soon as the doors closed behind them he nudged her up against the wall and captured her wrists above her head with one of his so much bigger hands. The walls were mirrored and everywhere he looked he saw Sandy in that sexy red dress, her hair tousled, her face flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. Beautiful Sandy, who had brought hope back into his life.

The raising of her arms brought her breasts high out of her strapless dress to tease him. In the confines of the elevator the warm vanilla female scent of her acted like a mainline hit of aphrodisiac. He could make love to her there and then.

But, as it always had been with Sandy, this was about so much more than sex. This step they were about to take was as much about intimacy and trust and a possible move towards a future beyond the next three days. The responsibility was awesome.

It was up to him to make it memorable. He’d waited so long for her and he wanted their first time to be slow and thorough, not a heated rush that might leave her behind.

He trailed kisses down her throat to the swell of her breasts. She gasped and he tightened his grip on her hands. She started to say something but he kissed her silent. Then the elevator reached her floor.

Still kissing her, he guided Sandy out of the elevator and towards her room. He fished his master keycard out of his pocket, used it, then shouldered the door open. They stumbled into the room and he kicked the door shut behind them.

* * *

Sandy had imagined a sensual, take-their-time progression through the bases for her first-time lovemaking with Ben. But she couldn’t wait for all that. It felt as if the entire day had been one long foreplay session. Every sense was clamouring for Ben. Now. Her legs were so shaky she could hardly stand.

She pulled away from the kiss, reached up and cradled his chin in her hands, thrilled at the passion and want in his eyes that echoed hers. Her breathing was so hard she had to gulp in air so her voice would make sense.

‘Ben. Stop.’

Immediately, gentleman that he was, he made to pull away from her. Urgently she stilled him.

‘Not stop. I mean go. Heck, that’s not what I mean. I mean stop delaying. I swear, Ben, I can’t wait any longer.’ She whimpered. Yes, she whimpered—something she’d never thought she’d do for a man. ‘Please.’

His eyes gleamed at the green light she’d given him. ‘If you knew how difficult it’s been to hold back...’ he groaned.

‘Oh, I have a good idea what it’s been like,’ she said, her heart pounding, her spirit exulting. ‘I feel like I’ve been waiting for this—for you—all my life.’

She kicked off her shiny shoes, not caring where they landed. Ben yanked down the zipper of her dress. She tugged at his tuxedo jacket and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Before she knew it she stood in just the scantiest red lace thong and Ben was in nothing at all—his body strong and powerful and aroused, his eyes ablaze with need for her.

Beautiful wasn’t a word she’d usually use to describe a man. But all her copywriting skills deserted her as she sought to find another word.

He was her once-in-a-lifetime love and she knew, no matter what happened tomorrow or the day after or the day after that, that tonight she would be irrevocably changed. As she took a step towards him she froze, overwhelmed—even a little frightened—of what this night might unleash. Then desire for this man took over again. Desire first ignited twelve long years ago. Desire thwarted. Desire reignited. Desire aching to be fulfilled.

Ben swept her into his arms and walked her towards the bed. Soon she could think of nothing but him and the urgent rhythm of the intimate dance they shared.

* * *

Ben didn’t know what time it was when he woke up. There was just enough moonlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains for him to watch Sandy as she slept. He leaned on his elbow and took in her beauty.

She lay sprawled on her back, her right arm crooked above her head, the sheet tucked around her waist. Her hair was all mussed on the pillow. He was getting used to seeing it short, though he wished it was still long. In repose, her face had lost the tension that haunted her eyes. A smile danced at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t look much older than the girl he’d thought he’d never see again.

It didn’t seem real that she was here beside him. Magic? Coincidence? Fate? Whatever—being with Sandy made him realise he had been living a stunted half-life that might ultimately have destroyed him.

How could he let her go in three days’ time?

But if he asked Sandy to stay he had to be sure it would be to stay for ever.

With just one finger he traced the line of her cheekbones, her nose, her mouth.

She stirred, as he’d hoped she would. Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze focused on him. His heart leapt as recognition dawned in her eyes. She smiled the slow, contented smile of a satisfied woman and stretched languorously.

‘Fancy waking up to you in my bed,’ she murmured. She took his hand and kissed first each finger in turn and then his palm with featherlight touches over the scars he hated so much. She placed his hand on her breast and covered it with her own.

‘You were so worth waiting twelve years for,’ she whispered.

‘Yes.’ He couldn’t find any more words. Just kissed her on her forehead, on her nose, finally on her mouth.

Want for her stirred again. He circled her nipple with his thumb and felt it harden. She moaned that sweet moan of pleasure. She returned his kiss. Softly. Tenderly. Then she turned her body to his.

Afterwards she lay snuggled into him, her head nestled on his chest, their legs entwined. The sweet vanilla scent of her filled his senses. He held her to him as tightly as he could without hurting her. He didn’t want to let her go.

Did she feel the same way about what had just happened—a connection that had been so much more than physical?

Did she know she had ripped down a huge part of the barricade that had protected him against feeling anything for anyone?

Hoarsely, he whispered her name.

The tenor of her breathing changed and he realised she was falling back to sleep. Had she heard him?

‘Ben...’ she murmured as her voice trailed away.

* * *

As Sandy drifted back into sleep, satiated not just with sexual satisfaction but with joy, she realised a profound truth: she’d never got it right with anyone but Ben. Not just the physical—which had been indescribably wonderful—but the whole deal.

Right back when she was eighteen she’d thought she’d found the man for her—but those close to her, those who had thought they knew what was best for her, had dissuaded her.

She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled.

Her heart had got it right the first time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘SO, IS THE sex with my nephew good?’

Sandy nearly fell off the chair near Aunt Ida’s hospital bed, too flummoxed even to think about a reply.

Ida laughed. ‘Not a question you expect a little old lady to ask?’

‘Uh...not really,’ Sandy managed to splutter as hot colour flooded her cheeks. She’d come to talk about the Bay Books business, not her private life with Ben.

Ida shifted her shoulders and resettled herself on the pillows, a flash of pain tightening her face. Sandy ached to help her, but Ben’s great-aunt was fiercely independent.

‘You don’t actually have to answer me,’ said Ida. ‘But great sex is so important to a healthy relationship. If you don’t have those fireworks now, forget having a happy future together.’

Sandy realised she had blushed more times since she’d been back in Dolphin Bay than she had in her entire life.

‘I... Uh... We...’ How the heck did Ida know what had happened with Ben last night? How did she know there’d been fireworks aplenty?

Ida chuckled. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then. Any fool can see the chemistry between you two. Good. No matter what the world dishes up to you, you’ll always have that wonderful intimacy to keep your love strong. It was like that for me and Mike.’

‘Oh?’ Sandy literally did not know where to look. To talk about sex with someone of her grandmother’s age was a new and unnerving experience.

‘I suppose you know about my scandalous past?’

‘I heard that you—’

‘But I guess you don’t want to hear about that.’

The expression in Ida’s eyes made it clear that Ida wanted very much to tell her story. And Sandy was curious to hear it. There hadn’t been much talking about relationships in her family’s strait-laced household. No wonder she’d been so naïve at the age of eighteen, when she’d met Ben.

Sandy settled herself back in her chair. ‘Did you really run away with a sailor, like Ben says?’

‘Indeed I did. Mike was sailing up the coast. We clicked instantly. I went back to his boat with him and—’

Sandy found herself gripping the fabric of her skirt where it bunched over her knees. She wanted to hear the story but she didn’t—she really didn’t—want to hear the intimate details.

‘I never left. I quit my job. Threw my hat in with Mike. We got married on an island in Fiji.’

One part of Sandy thought it romantic, another thought it foolhardy.

‘Even though you hardly knew him?’ But how well did she actually know Ben? Enough to risk her heart the way she’d done last night?

‘I knew enough that I wanted to spend every waking and sleeping moment with him. I was thirty-five; he was five years older. We didn’t have time to waste.’

Was that message aimed at her and Ben? The way she felt right now Sandy hated being parted from him even for a minute. But there were issues still unresolved.

‘What about...what about children? Did you regret not having kids?’

‘Not for a moment. We couldn’t have had the life we had with kids. Mike was enough for me.’

Could Ben be enough for her? Right now her heart sang with the message that he was all she wanted. But what about in years to come? If things worked out with Ben, could she give up her dreams of a family?

Ida continued. ‘And I don’t have time to waste now. Once I’m over this injury I want to go back to the places I visited with Mike. It might be my last chance.’

Sandy put up a hand in protest. ‘Surely not. You—’

‘Still have years ahead of me? Who knows? But what I do know is I need to sell Bay Books—and I want you to buy it from me.’

Again, Sandy was too flabbergasted to reply to the old lady. Just made an incoherent gasp.

‘You told me you want to run your own business,’ said Ida. ‘And I’m talking a good price for stock, fittings and goodwill.’

‘Yes... But...’

But why not?

Candles came a poor second to books. And she already had so many ideas for improving Bay Books. Hadn’t she thought, in the back of her mind, that if there were a chance she might stay in Dolphin Bay she would need to earn her living?

‘Why the “but”?’ Ida asked.

‘The “but” is Ben,’ said Sandy. ‘We’re not looking beyond these next few days right now. I have to take it slowly with him. I’m interested in your proposition. But I can’t commit to anything until I know if there might be anything more with Ben.’

Ida’s eyes were warm with understanding. ‘I know what Ben’s been through. I also know he needs to look to the future. I’m hoping it’s with you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sandy, touched by the older lady’s faith in her.

‘I’ll keep my offer on the table. But I’ll be selling—if not to you, to someone else.’

‘Can we keep this between us?’ Sandy asked. ‘I’d rather not mention it to Ben just yet. I don’t want him to think I’m putting any pressure on him.’

‘Of course,’ said Ida.

* * *

Sandy felt guilty, putting a ‘Back in One Hour’ sign on the door of Bay Books—but meeting Ben for lunch was more important.

Ida’s words echoed through her head. She didn’t have time to waste.

She made her way to the boathouse to find the door open and Ben unpacking gourmet sandwiches from the hotel café and loading cold drinks into the refrigerator.

Again, he was whistling, and she smiled at the carefree sound. He hadn’t realised she was there and she was struck by the domesticity of the moment. Did she want this with Ben? Everyday routine as well as heart-stopping passion? Much, much more than a few days together?

The answer was in his eyes when he looked up and saw she was there. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Yes to sharing everything.

Everything but the rearing of kids.

He put down the bottle he was holding, she dropped her handbag, and they met in the middle of the room. Ben held her close. She stood in his arms, exulting in the warm strength of him, the thudding of his heart, the way he smelled of the sea.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ was the only reply she could manage.

Her heart started a series of pirouettes—demanding its message be heard.

She loved him.

Emotion, overwhelming and powerful, surged through her. So did gratitude for whatever power had steered her back to him.

But could wounded, wary Ben love her back in the way she needed?

He kissed her—a brief, tender kiss of welcome—then pulled away.

‘How did it go with Ida at the hospital?’

When she told him about Ida’s questioning about their love-life he laughed, loud and uproariously.

‘The old girl is outrageous,’ he said, with more than a hint of pride. ‘So what did you say to her?’

‘I was so embarrassed I didn’t know where to look.’

He pulled her close again. His voice was deep and husky and suggestive. ‘What would you have told her?’

She twined her arms around his neck. ‘I think you know last night was the most amazing experience of my life.’ She had trouble keeping her voice steady. ‘Why didn’t I say yes all those years ago? Why, why, why didn’t I fight harder for you?’

‘Water under the bridge, remember?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘It mightn’t have been such an amazing experience when I was nineteen.’

‘Not true. You were the best kisser. Still are.’

‘Always happy to oblige,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘Last night...the dinner dance...it was fun, wasn’t it?’

‘You were a big hit.’

‘Was I? I’m still not quite sure how to handle the townfolk. In particular the way they compare me to Jodi.’ And I’m not sure how, if we have a future, I’ll handle being second in your life.

‘You’re still worrying about that?’ He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

‘And I’m quite happy to see it,’ she quipped. ‘We can eat lunch afterwards.’

He laughed. ‘That’s not what I meant. But we can do that too.’

He went to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pulled out the framed photo he had put there yesterday—the yesterday that seemed a hundred years ago. She braced herself, not at all sure she could cope with seeing Jodi and Ben together in happy times. She prayed the baby wouldn’t be in the photo. One day she would have to go there. But not now. Not when this was all too raw and new.

Ben held the photo so she couldn’t see what it was. ‘It concerned me when you said you were worried about coming second with me. About being in the shadow of the memory of another woman. It’s ironic that Jodi felt the same way about you.’

Sandy frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

He handed her the photo. Astounded, she looked from it to him and back again. ‘But it’s of me. Of you. Of us.’

The simple wooden frame held a faded snap of her very young self and Ben with their arms around each other. She—super-slim—was wearing a tiny pink floral-patterned bikini; her hair was wet and tangled with salt and fell almost to her waist. She was looking straight at the camera with a confident, happy smile. Ben’s surfer hair was long and sun-streaked and he was wearing blue Hawaiian print board shorts. He wasn’t looking at the camera but rather down at her, with an expression of pride and possession heartrendingly poignant on a teenager.

She had to clear her throat before she spoke. ‘Where did you get this from?’

‘From you. Don’t you remember?’

Slowly the memory returned to her. ‘Lizzie took this photo. We had to get the film developed at the chemist in those days. I bought the frame from the old general store. And I gave it to you to...to remember me by.’ She’d had a copy, too. Had shoved it in the back of an old photo album that was heaven knew where now.

‘Jodi found it at the bottom of a drawer in my room just before we got married. She brought it to me and said we needed to talk.’

‘I...I thought you would have thrown it out.’

‘She thought so too. She asked me was I still carrying a torch for you.’

‘Wh...what did you say?’

‘I said I’d cared for you once but was now totally committed to her.’

Sandy swallowed hard against a kick of that unwarranted jealousy. ‘You...you were getting married. Wouldn’t she know that?’

‘We were getting married because she was pregnant with Liam.’

Sandy let out a gasp of surprise. ‘I...I didn’t know that.’

‘Of course you didn’t. But she was sensitive about it. Wanted me to reassure her that I wasn’t marrying her just because I “had to”.’

‘Poor Jodi.’ Her heart went out to the lovely girl who had cared so much for Ben, and she wished she had more than vague memories of her.

‘So, you see, as far as Jodi was concerned you were the “third person”, as you put it, in our marriage.’

‘I...I don’t really know what to say. If...if you were married I wouldn’t come anywhere near you.’

‘I know that. You know that. And I’m sure Jodi knew that. But no matter how much I reassured her that we would have got married anyway, just maybe not so soon, she had that little nagging doubt that she was my second choice.’

‘And yet you...you didn’t throw out the photo.’ She was still holding the frame in her hands, her fingers tightly curled around the edge.

‘No. I went to put it in the bin, to prove my point, but Jodi stopped me. Said it was unrealistic to expect we wouldn’t each come into the marriage with a past. She just wanted to make sure you stayed in the past.’

‘And here I am...in...in the future.’

‘I hadn’t thought about this photo in years. Then, after that morning on the beach with you and Hobo, I dug it out from a box in the storeroom at the hotel.’

‘And put it on display?’

Ben took the photo frame from her hands and placed it back on top of the dresser. ‘Where it will stay,’ he said.

‘So...so why did you hide it from me yesterday?’

‘I thought you’d think it was strange that I’d kept it. It was too soon.’

‘But it’s not too soon now?’

‘We’ve come a long way since yesterday.’

‘Yes,’ she said. She made a self-conscious effort to laugh. But it came out as something more strangled. ‘Who knows where we’ll get to in the next three days?’

It was a rhetorical question she wished she hadn’t uttered as soon as she’d said it. But Ben just nodded.

He picked up the photo frame and then put it back down again. ‘If you’re okay with it, I’ll keep it here.’

‘Of course,’ she said, speaking through a lump of emotion in her throat. ‘And I don’t expect you to keep photos of Jodi buried in a drawer while I’m around.’

But, please, no photos of Liam on display. No way could she deal with that while she was dealing with the thought that if it worked out with Ben she would see the demise of her dream of having her own kids.

‘She was a big part of my life. I’m glad you don’t want to deny that.’

‘Of course I recognise that. Like...like she did about me.’

She looked again at the long-ago photo and wondered how Jodi had felt when she’d seen it. How sensible Jodi had been not to deny Ben his past. She had to do the same. But there was still that nagging doubt.

‘I still can’t help but wonder if I can compete with the memory of someone so important to you.’

He cupped her chin with his big scarred hands. ‘As I said before, it’s not a competition. You’re so different. She was the safe harbour, calm waters. You’re the breaking waves, the white-water excitement.’

‘Both calm waters and breaking waves can be good,’ she said, understanding what he meant and feeling a release from her fears. She hoped she, too, could at times become a safe harbour for him.

If she were to carry the wave analogy to its conclusion, Jason had been the dumper wave that had started off fast and exciting and then crashed her, choking and half drowning, onto the hard, gritty sand.

But what she felt for Ben defied all categorisation. He was both safe harbour and wild wave, and everything else she wanted, in one extraordinary man. And she longed to be everything to him.

But she couldn’t tell him that. Not yet. Not until the three days were over.

‘How long until you have to be back at the shop?’ Ben asked.

‘How long do we need?’ she murmured as she slid her arms around his waist and kissed him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SANDY TURNED THE ‘Back in One Hour’ sign—it had stretched to one and a half hours—so it read ‘Open’ and dashed into the shop. She spent a few minutes fixing her hair and make-up so the next contingent of too-interested ladies who came in wouldn’t immediately guess how she’d spent her lunch hour. Wouldn’t that make the Dolphin Bay grapevine hum...?

But customers were few—maybe she wasn’t such a novelty any more. Or maybe, because it was such a hot day, people would rather be on the beach. She lifted her hair from her neck to cool it. It was warm in here today, despite her fiddling with the air-conditioning controls.

In the lull, after a lady had been seeking the latest celebrity chef cookbook and a man had wanted a history of the Dolphin Bay fishing fleet, she pulled out her fairy notebook. The glitter shimmered onto the countertop. It was time to revisit her thirtieth birthday resolutions.

She read them through again, with her Hotel Harbourside pen poised to make amendments.

1. Get as far away from Sydney as possible while remaining in realms of civilisation and within reach of a good latte.

Tick.

Dolphin Bay was four hours away from Sydney, and Ben’s hotel café did excellent coffee. But her stay depended on a rekindled relationship of uncertain duration.

2. Find new job where can be own boss.

Tick.

The possibility of owning Bay Books exceeded the ‘new job’ expectations. She scribbled, Add gift section to bookshop—enquire if can be sub-franchisee for candles.

But, again, the possible job depended entirely on her relationship with Ben. She wouldn’t hang around in Dolphin Bay if they kissed goodbye for good on Wednesday.

She hesitated when she came to resolution number three. As opposed to the flippy thing, her heart gave a painful lurch.

3. Find kind, interesting man with no hang-ups who loves me the way I am and who wants to get married and have three kids, two girls and a boy.

She’d found the guy—though he came with hang-ups aplenty—and maybe he was the guy on whom she’d subconsciously modelled the brief. But as for the rest of it....

Could she be happy with just two out of three resolutions fulfilled? How big a compromise was she prepared to make?

Now her heart actually ached, and she had to swallow down hard on a sigh. Children had always been on the agenda for her—in fact she’d never imagined a life that didn’t include having babies. Then her mother’s oft-repeated words came to mind: ‘You can’t have everything you want in life, Alexandra.’

She put down her pen, then picked it up again. Channelled ‘Sunny Sandy’. Two out of three was definitely a cup more than half full. Slowly, with a wavering line of ink, she scored through the words relating to kids, then wrote: If stay in DB, ask Maura about puppy. She crossed out the word ‘puppy’ and wrote puppies.

Unable to bear any further thoughts about shelving her dreams of children, she slammed the fairy notebook shut.

As she did so the doorbell jangled. She looked up to see a very small person manfully pushing the door open.

‘Amy! Sweetpea!’

Sandy flew around the counter and rushed to meet her niece, then looked up to see her sister, Lizzie, behind her. ‘And Lizzie! I can’t believe it.’

Sandy greeted Lizzie with a kiss, then swept Amy up into her arms and hugged her tight. Eyes closed at the bliss of having her precious niece so close, she inhaled her sweet little-girl scent of strawberry shampoo and fresh apple.

‘I miss you, bub,’ she said, kissing Amy’s smooth, perfect cheek.

‘Miss you too, Auntie Ex.’

Her niece was the only person who called her that—when she was tiny Amy hadn’t been able to manage ‘Alexandra’ and it had morphed into ‘Ex’, a nickname that had stayed.

‘But you’re squashing me.’

‘Oh, sorry—of course I am.’ Sandy carefully put her niece down and smoothed the fabric of Amy’s dress.

Amy looked around her with wide eyes. ‘Where are the books for children?’ she asked.

‘They’re right over here, sweetpea. Are your hands clean?’

Amy displayed a pair of perfectly clean little hands. ‘Yes.’

‘Then you can take books and look at them. There’s a comfy purple beanbag in the corner.’

Amy settled herself with a picture book about a crocodile. Sandy had trouble keeping her eyes off her little niece. Had she grown in just the few days since they’d said goodbye in Sydney? Amy had been a special part of her life since she’d been born and she loved being an aunt. She’d looked forward to having a little girl just like her one day.

Her breath caught in her throat. If she stayed with Ben no one would ever call her Mummy.

‘Nice place,’ said Lizzie, looking around her. ‘But what the heck are you doing here? You’re meant to be on your way to Melbourne.’

‘I could ask the same about you. Though it’s such a nice surprise to see you.’

‘Amy had a pupil-free day at school. I decided to shoot down here and see what my big sis was up to!’

‘I texted you.’

‘Just a few words to say you were spending some time in Dolphin Bay. Dolphin Bay! Why this end-of-nowhere dump? Though I have to say the place has smartened itself up. And Amy loves the dolphin rubbish bins.’

‘I took the scenic route down the coast. It was lunchtime when I saw the turn-off, and—’

Lizzie put up her hand to halt her. ‘I suspected it, but now I get it. This is about Ben Morgan, isn’t it? What else would the attraction be here? And don’t even think about lying, because you’re blushing.’

‘I have caught up with Ben. Yes.’

Lizzie took a step closer. ‘You’ve done a lot more than “caught up” with Ben, haven’t you?’

Sandy rolled her eyes skyward and laughed. Then she filled her sister in on what had happened since she’d driven her Beetle down the main street of Dolphin Bay. Including Ida’s offer to sell her Bay Books, but excluding Ben’s decision not to have any more children.

‘So, are you going to stay here with Ben?’ Lizzie asked.

Sandy shrugged. ‘We’re testing the waters of what it might be like. But I feel the same way about him as I did back then.’

Lizzie stayed silent for a long moment before she spoke again. ‘You’re not just getting all sentimental about the past because of what happened with Jason?’

Sandy shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. It’s nothing to do with that. Just about me and Ben.’

Just mentioning their names together made her heart flip.

‘I remember what it was like between you. Man, you were crazy about each other.’

Sandy clutched her sister’s arm. Lizzie had to believe that what she’d rediscovered with Ben was the real deal. ‘It’s still there, Lizzie, that feeling between us. We took up where we left off. I’m so happy to have found him again. Even if these few days are all we have. And I don’t give a toss about Jason.’

‘I’m thrilled for you—truly I am. I always liked Ben. And I love this shop. It would be cool to own it. Way better than candles.’ Lizzie shifted from foot to foot. ‘But now I’ve brought up the J word I have to tell you something. You’re going to hear it sooner or later, and I’d rather you heard it from me.’

Sandy frowned. ‘Is it about the wedding?’ She hadn’t given it another thought.

‘More about the bump under What’s-Her-Name’s wedding gown.’

Sandy had to hold on to the edge of the closest bookshelf. ‘You mean—?’

‘They’re not admitting to it. But the wedding guests are betting there’ll be a J-Junior coming along in about five months’ time.’

Sandy felt the blood drain from her face. Not that she gave a flying fig for That-Jerk-Jason. But envy of his new bride shook her. Not envy of her having Jason’s baby. The thought of anyone other than Ben touching her repulsed her. But envy because she would never be the one with a proudly displayed bump, would never bear Ben’s child.

‘Are you okay, Sandy?’

Sandy took a deep breath, felt the colour rush back into her face. ‘Of course I’m okay. It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

Lizzie hugged her. ‘Maybe you’ll be next, if you end up with Ben. You’re thirty now—you won’t want to leave it too long.’

‘Of course not,’ said Sandy, her voice trailing away.

Lizzie was just the first to say it. If, in some hypothetical future, she and Ben decided to stay together it would start. First it would be, So when are you two tying the knot? followed by, Are you putting on weight or have you got something to tell us?

Would she would be able to endure her friends’ pregnancy excitement, birth stories, christenings, first-day-at-school sob-stories? All the while knowing she could never share them?

She understood Ben’s stance against having another child. Was aware of the terrible place it came from. But she couldn’t help but wonder if to start a relationship with Ben predicated on it being a relationship without children would mean a doomed relationship. It might be okay to start with, but as the years went by might she come to blame him? To resent him?

‘You sure you’re okay?’ asked Lizzie. ‘You look flushed.’

‘Really, I’m fine.’ Sandy fanned her face with both hands. ‘It’s hot. I suspect this rattly old air-conditioner is on its last legs.’

‘You could put in a new one if you bought the business.’

‘I guess...’ she said, filled with sudden new doubt.

Holding Amy in her arms, hearing about Jason’s bride’s bump, had shaken her confidence in a long-term relationship with Ben that didn’t include starting a family.

She changed the subject. ‘What are you guys planning on doing? Can you stay tonight?’

‘That depends on you. I promised Amy I’d take her to see the white lions at Mogo Zoo. Then we could come back here, have dinner with you and Ben, stay the night and go home tomorrow.’

‘That would be amazing. Let’s book you into Ben’s gorgeous hotel.’

When had her thoughts changed from Hotel Hideous to ‘Ben’s gorgeous hotel’?

She didn’t feel guilty about putting the ‘Back in Ten Minutes’ sign up on the bookshop door—Ida had quite a collection of signs, covering all contingencies. It was hot and stuffy inside Bay Books and she was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

And she wanted to see Ben again, to be reassured that loving him would be enough.

* * *

Ben was stunned to see Sandy coming towards Reception with a little girl. The child was clutching one of Bay Books’ brown paper bags with one hand and holding on tight to Sandy’s hand with the other. All the while she kept up a steady stream of childish chatter and Sandy looked down to reply, her face tender and her eyes warm with love.

That newly tuned engine of his heart spluttered and stalled at the sight. It looked natural and right to see Sandy hand in hand with a child. The little girl might be her daughter.

Anguish tore through him. Liam would have been around the same age if he’d lived. He could not go there. Getting past what would have been Liam’s first birthday had seen him alone in his room with a bottle of bourbon. The other anniversaries had been only marginally better.

Sandy caught sight of him and greeted him with a big smile. Was he imagining that it didn’t reach her eyes? He forced himself to smile back, to act as though the sight of her with a child had not affected him.

He pulled her into a big hug. His need to keep their relationship private from the gossiping eyes of Dolphin Bay was in the past. He’d been warmed and gratified by the good wishes he’d been given since the night of the Chamber of Commerce dance. He hadn’t realised just how concerned his family and friends had been about him.

‘This is my niece, Amy,’ Sandy said. ‘Amy, this is my friend Ben.’

Ben hunkered down to Amy’s height. ‘Hi, Amy. Welcome to Dolphin Bay.’

‘I like dolphins,’ Amy said. ‘They smile. I like crocodiles too. I’ve got a new crocodile book.’ She thrust the brown paper bag towards him.

‘That’s good,’ Ben said awkwardly. He was out of practice with children. Hadn’t been able to deal with them since he’d lost Liam.

Sandy rescued him from further stilted conversation. ‘Do you remember my sister, Lizzie?’ she asked, indicating the tall blonde woman who had joined them.

‘Of course I remember you, Lizzie,’ he said as he shook hands. Though, truth be told, back then he’d been so caught up with Sandy he’d scarcely noticed Lizzie, attractive though she was.

‘Who would have thought I’d see you two together again after all these years?’ said Lizzie.

‘Yes,’ he said.

He looked down at Sandy and she smiled up at him.

‘Can we book Lizzie and Amy into a room with a water view?’ she asked.

We. She’d said ‘we’. And he wasn’t freaked out by it as much as he’d thought he would be. In fact he kind of liked it.

He put his arm around her and held her close. She clutched onto him with a ferocity that both pleased and worried him. There was that shadow again around her eyes. What gave?

He booked Lizzie and Amy into the room adjoining Sandy’s, talking over their protests when he told them that the room was on the house.

‘Dinner tonight at the hotel?’ he asked, including Lizzie and Amy in the invitation.

Sandy nodded. ‘Yes, please—for all of us. Though it will have to be early because of Amy’s bedtime.’

‘I’m good with that.’

The sooner Lizzie and Amy were settled in their room, the sooner he could be alone with Sandy. Their time together was ticking down.

Lizzie glanced at her watch. ‘We have to get to the zoo.’ She took Amy’s book and packed it in her bag. ‘C’mon, Amy, quick-sticks.’

Amy indicated for Sandy to pick her up and Sandy obliged. She embraced Sandy in a fierce hug.

‘I’ll bring you a white lion, Auntie Ex,’ she said.

Auntie Ex? Ben was about to ask for an explanation of the name when Amy leaned over from her position in Sandy’s arms and put her arms up to be hugged by him.

‘Bye-bye, Ben,’ she said. ‘Do you want a white lion, too?’

Ben froze. He hadn’t held a child since he’d last held Liam. But Amy’s little hands were resting on his shoulders, her face close to his. For a moment it was the three of them. A man. A woman. A child.

He panicked. Had to force himself not to shake. He looked to Sandy over the little girl’s blonde head. Connected with her eyes, both sad and compassionate.

He cleared his throat and managed to pat the little girl gently on the back. ‘A white lion would be great—thanks, Amy.’

‘A girl one or a boy one?’ Amy asked.

Ben choked out the words. ‘A...a boy one, please.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and wiggled for Sandy to put her down.

Amy ran over to her mother.

‘How are you going to get the white lions back here, Amy?’ asked Sandy.

‘In the back of the car, of course, silly,’ Amy replied.

The adults laughed, which broke the tension. But Ben was still shaken by the emotion that had overtaken him when he’d stood, frozen, in that group hug with Sandy and Amy. And he couldn’t help but notice how Sandy’s eyes never left her delightful little niece. There was more than being a doting aunt in her gaze.

‘Okay, guys, I have to get back to the bookshop,’ Sandy said. She hugged Amy and Lizzie. Then turned to him and hugged him. ‘I’m going to stay back for a little while after I shut up shop and flick through Ida’s files. I’ll see you for dinner.’

He tightened his arms around her. Something was bothering her—and that bothered him. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he said, wanting to urge her to stay.

Lizzie and Amy headed for their car. Ben watched Sandy as she walked through the door. Her steps were too slow, her head bowed. She seemed suddenly alone, her orange dress a flash of colour in the monochrome decor of the reception area.

Was she thinking about how much she’d miss Lizzie and Amy if she settled in Dolphin Bay?

He suspected it was more than that.

Sandy had accepted his reasons for not wanting to risk having another child. But he’d seen raw longing in her eyes when she’d been with Amy.

When she was eighteen she’d chattered on that she wanted three kids. He’d thought two was enough—but he hadn’t argued about wanting to be a parent. Fatherhood had been on his future agenda, too.

The ever-present pain knifed deeper. Being father to Liam had been everything he’d wanted and more. He’d loved every minute of his son’s babyhood.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath. By denying Sandy her chance to be a mother he could lose her. If not now, then later.

It might make her wave goodbye and leave for Melbourne on Wednesday, never to return to Dolphin Bay. Or, if she decided to stay with him, she might come to resent him. Blame him for the ache in her heart that only a baby could soothe.

Could he let that happen?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Sandy trudged towards the hospital entrance. Fed up with the muggy atmosphere in Bay Books, and the rattling, useless air-conditioner, she’d shut up shop on the dot of five o’clock. To heck with going through more of Ida’s files. She’d talk to Ida in person.

Whether or not she’d be able to have a sensible business conversation was debatable. She was too churned up with anxiety about the reality that a long-term relationship with Ben meant giving up her dream of having children. She tried summoning the techniques Ben had taught her to overcome her fear of monster waves but without any luck.

Her anxiety was like a dark shadow, diminishing the brilliance of her rediscovered love for Ben. Even memories of their heavenly lovemaking the night before, the joy of waking again in his arms, was not enough.

It felt like that long-ago summer day when she had been snorkelling with Ben at Big Ray Beach, out in the calm waters of the headland. It had been a perfect day, the sun shimmering through the water to the white sand beneath them, illuminating shoals of brightly coloured little fish darting in and out of the rocks. She and Ben had dived to follow some particularly cute orange and white clown fish.

Then suddenly everything had gone dark. Terrified, she’d gripped Ben’s arm. He’d pointed upwards and she’d seen one of the big black manta rays that had given its name to the beach swim directly above them. She’d panicked, thinking she didn’t have enough air to swim around it and up to the surface. But the ray had cruised along surprisingly quickly and she and Ben had been in sunshine again. They’d burst through to the top, spluttering and laughing and hugging each other.

Right now she felt the way she had when the light had been suddenly cut off.

She couldn’t ignore Ben’s stricken reaction when Amy had reached out to him yesterday. Her niece was discerning when it came to the adults she liked. She’d obviously picked Ben as a good guy and homed in like a heat-seeking missile. But all it had done was bring back painful memories for Ben.

If Sandy had held on to any remnant of hope that Ben might change his mind about having a child she’d lost it when she’d seen the fear and panic in his eyes.

And it hadn’t got any better during dinner. She’d seen what an enormous effort it had been for Ben to take part in Amy’s childish conversation. Amy, bless her, hadn’t noticed. Her little niece had been too pleased she’d managed to get a toy girl white lion for her Auntie Ex and a boy one for Ben.

It must be so painful for Ben to endure—every child he encountered a reminder to him of what he had lost.

But it was painful for her, too, to know that Amy would be the only child she would ever have to love if she and Ben became a long-term couple.

Could she really do this? Put all her hopes of a family aside?

Would she be doomed to spend the next ten years or so hoping Ben might change his mind? Counting down the fertile years she had left? Becoming embittered and resentful?

She loved Ben; she didn’t want to grow to hate him.

If she had any thought that her relationship with Ben might founder over the children issue should she think seriously of breaking it off now, to save them both future pain? Her heart shrivelled to a hard, painful knot at the thought of leaving him.

She couldn’t mention her fears to Lizzie—now back home in Sydney. Lizzie would tell her to run, not walk, away from Dolphin Bay. Her sister had often said giving birth to Amy was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She wouldn’t want Sandy to miss out on motherhood.

Ben’s decision not to have more children really could be a deal-breaker. Tomorrow was Wednesday and their future beyond tonight had become the elephant in the room. No. Not just an elephant but a giant-sized woolly mammoth.

As she neared the big glass doors of the hospital entrance she knew she had to tell Ida to take her out of the Bay Books equation. She couldn’t consider her offer while she had any doubt at all about staying in Dolphin Bay.

But almost as soon as she was inside the hospital doors she was waylaid by the bank manager’s wife, a hospital administrator, who wanted to chat.

By the time she got to Ida’s bedside it was to find Ben’s aunt in a highly agitated state.

‘Why haven’t you answered your mobile? There’s smoke pouring out of Bay Books. Ben’s there, investigating.’

* * *

It was nothing Ben could put his finger on, but he could swear Sandy had distanced herself from him last night. Especially through that awkward dinner. At any time he’d expected outspoken Lizzie to demand to know what his intentions were towards Sandy. And Sandy’s obvious deep love for Amy had made him question again the fairness of depriving her of her own children.

But tomorrow was Wednesday. He had to talk with Sandy about her expectations—and his—if they were to go beyond these four awesome days.

She wasn’t picking up her mobile. Seeing her would be better. He headed to Bay Books.

Ben smelled the smoke before he saw it—pungent, acrid, burning the back of his throat. Sweat broke out on his forehead, dampened his shirt to his back. His legs felt like lead weights. Terror seized his gut.

Sandy. Was she in there?

He was plunged back into the nightmare of the guesthouse fire. The flames. The doorknob searing the flesh of his hands. His voice raw from screaming Jodi’s name.

His heart thudded so hard it made him breathless. He forced his paralysed legs to run down the laneway at the side of the shop, around to the back entrance. Dark grey smoke billowed out through a broken pane in the back window.

The wooden carvings. The books. So much fuel for the fire. A potential inferno.

Sandy could be sprawled on the floor. Injured. Asphyxiated. He had to go in. Find her.

Save her.

He shrugged off his jacket, used it to cover his face, leaving only a slit for his eyes. He pushed in his key to the back door and shoved. The door gave. He plunged into the smoke.

‘Sandy!’ he screamed until his voice was hoarse.

No response.

Straight away he saw the source of the smoke. The old air-conditioning unit on the wall that Ida had refused to let him replace. Smouldering, distorted by heat, but as yet with no visible flames.

The smoke appeared to be contained in the small back area.

But no Sandy.

Heart in his mouth, he shouldered open the door that led through into the shop. No smoke or flames.

No Sandy there either.

All the old pain he’d thought he’d got under control gripped him so hard he doubled over. What if it had been a different story and Sandy had died? By opening up to Sandy he’d exposed himself again to the agony of loss.

He fought against the thought that made him wish Sandy had never driven so blithely back into Dolphin Bay. Making him question the safe half-life that had protected him for so long.

Like prison gates clanging shut, the old barriers against pain and loss and anguish slammed back into place. He felt numb, drained.

How could he have thought he could deal with loving another woman?

A high-pitched pop song ringtone rang out, startling him. It was so out of place in this place of near disaster. He grabbed Sandy’s mobile phone from next to the register and shoved it in his pocket without answering it. Why the hell didn’t she have it with her?

He headed back to the smouldering air-conditioning unit, grabbed the fire extinguisher canister from the nearby wall bracket and sprayed fire retardant all over it.

Then he staggered out into the car park behind the shop.

He coughed and spluttered and gulped in huge breaths of fresh air.

And then Sandy was there, her face anguished and wet with tears.

‘Ben. Thank heaven. Ben.’

* * *

Sandy never wanted to experience again the torment of the last ten minutes. All sorts of hideous scenarios had played over and over in her head.

She scarcely remembered how she’d got from the hospital to Bay Books, her heart pounding with terror, to find horrible black smoke and Ben inside the shop.

But Ben was safe.

His face was drawn and stark and smeared with soot. His clothes were filthy and he stank of acrid smoke. But she didn’t care. She flung herself into his arms. Pressed herself to his big, solid, blessedly alive body. Rejoiced in the pounding of his heart, the reassuring rise and fall of his chest as he gulped in clean air.

‘You’re okay...’ That was all she could choke out.

He held her so tightly she thought he would bruise her ribs.

‘It wasn’t as bad as it looked. There’s just smoke damage out the back. It didn’t reach the books.’

He coughed. Dear heaven, had the smoke burned his throat?

Relief that he was alive morphed into anger that he’d put himself in such danger. She pulled back and pounded on his chest with her fists. ‘Why did you go in there? Why take the risk? Ida must have insurance. All that wood, all that paper... If it had ignited you could have been killed.’ Her voice hiccupped and she dissolved into tears again.

He caught her wrists with his damaged hands. ‘Because I thought you were in there.’

She stilled. ‘Me?’

‘You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.’

The implication of his words slammed into her like the kind of fast, hard wave that knocked you down, leaving you to tumble over and over in the surf. His wife and son had been trapped inside a fire-ravaged building. What cruel fate had forced him to face such a scenario again? Suffer the fear that someone he cared for was inside?

She sniffed back her tears so she was able to speak. ‘I’d gone to visit Ida. To talk...to talk business with her.’ And to mull over what a future without kids might mean. ‘I’m so sorry. It was my fault you—’

‘It was my choice to go in there. I had to.’

His grip on her hands was so tight it hurt.

‘All I could think about was how it would be if I lost you.’

He let go her hands and stepped back.

Something was wrong with this scenario. His eyes, bluer than ever in the dark, smoke-dirtied frame of his face, were tense and unreadable. He fisted his hands by his sides.

She felt her stomach sink low with trepidation. ‘But you didn’t lose me, Ben. I’m here. I’m fine.’

‘But what if you hadn’t been? What if—?’

She fought to control the tremor in her voice. ‘I thought we’d decided not to play the “what-if?” game.’

Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. ‘It was a shock.’

She heard the distant wail of a fire engine and was aware of people gathering at a distance from the shop.

Ben waved and called over to them. ‘Nothing to worry about. Just smoke—no fire.’

He wiped his hand over his face in a gesture of weariness and resignation that tore at her. A dark smear of soot swept right across his cheek.

‘Sandy, I need to let the fire department know they’re not needed. Then go get cleaned up.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ she said immediately.

This could be their last evening together.

He hesitated for just a second too long. ‘Why don’t you go back to the hotel and I’ll meet you there?’ he said.

One step forward and two steps back? Try ten steps forward and a hundred steps back.

‘Sure,’ she said, forcing the fear out of her voice.

He went to drop a kiss on her cheek but she averted it so the kiss landed on her mouth. She wound her arms around his neck, clung to him, willing him with her kiss to know how much she cared for him. How much she wanted it to work out.

‘Woo-hoo! Why don’t you guys get a room?’

The call—friendly, well-meant—came from one of the onlookers. She laughed, but Ben glared. She dropped her arms; he turned away.

So she wasn’t imagining the change in him.

She forced her voice to sound Sunny-Sandy-positive. ‘Okay. So I’ll see you back at the hotel.’

She headed back towards Hotel Harbourside, disorientated by a haunting sense of dread.

* * *

Ben hated the confusion and hurt on Sandy’s face. Hated that he was the cause of it. But he felt paralysed by the fear of losing her. He needed time to think without her distracting presence.

Thanks to this special woman he’d come a long way in the last few days. But what came next? Sandy deserved commitment. Certainty. But there were big issues to consider. Most of all the make-or-break question of children. He’d been used to managing only his own life. Now Sandy was here. And she’d want answers.

Answers he wasn’t sure he could give right now.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SANDY WAS JUST about to turn in to the hotel entrance when she stopped. It wasn’t exactly anger towards Ben that made her pause. More annoyance that she was letting herself tiptoe around vital issues she and Ben needed to sort out if they were to have any hope of a future together.

Ben needed to be treated with care and consideration for what he’d been through. But she had to consider her own needs, too. Decision time was looming. If she was to go to Melbourne and interview for the candle shop franchise she had to leave here by the latest tomorrow morning.

She turned right back around and headed down the steps to the beach.

The heat was still oppressive, the sand still warm. At this time of year it wouldn’t get dark until nearly nine.

Before the sun set she needed answers.

She found Ben sitting on the wooden dock that led out from the boathouse into the waters of the bay. His broad shoulders were hunched as he looked out towards the breakwater.

Without a word she sat down beside him. Took his hand in hers. In response, he squeezed it tight. They sat in silence. Her. Ben. And that darn woolly mammoth neither of them seemed capable of addressing.

Beyond the breakwater a large cargo ship traversed the horizon. Inside the harbour walls people were rowing dinghies to shore from where their boats were anchored. A large seagull landed on the end pier and water slapped against the supporting posts of the dock.

She took a deep breath. ‘Ida wants to sell me Bay Books.’

‘Is that what you want?’ His gaze was intent, the set of his mouth serious.

She met his gaze with equal intensity. ‘I want to run my own business. I think I could make the bookshop work even better than it already does. But you’re the only reason for me to stay in Dolphin Bay.’

‘An important decision like that should be made on its own merits.’

‘The bookshop proposition’s main merit is that it allows me to stay here with you.’ Time to vanquish that mammoth. ‘We have to talk about where we go from here.’

His voice matched the bleakness of his face. ‘I don’t know that I can give you what you want.’

‘I want you, Ben. Surely you know that.’

‘I want you too. More than you can imagine. If it wasn’t for...for other considerations I’d ask you to stay. Tell you to phone that candle guy and cancel your interview in Melbourne. But...but it’s not that straightforward.’

‘What other considerations?’ she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

He cleared his throat. ‘I saw how you were with Amy.’

‘You mean how I dote on her?’

He nodded. ‘You were meant to be a mother, Sandy. Even when you were eighteen you wanted to have kids.’

‘Two girls and a boy,’ she whispered, the phrase now a desolate echo.

‘I can’t endure loss like that again. Today brought it all back.’

She wanted to shake him. Ben was smart, educated, an astute businessman. Why did he continue to run away from life? From love.

‘I appreciate your loss. The pain you’ve gone through. But haven’t you punished yourself enough for what happened?’

He made an inarticulate response and she knew she had hurt him. But this had been bottled up for too long.’

‘Can’t you see that any pleasure involves possible pain? Any gain possible risk. Are you never going to risk having your heart broken again?’

His face was ashen under his tan. ‘It’s too soon.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever change your mind about children?’

She held her breath in anticipation of his answer.

‘Since you’ve been back I’ve thought about it. But four days isn’t long enough for me to backtrack on something so important.’

Deep down she knew he was only giving voice to what she already knew. She wanted Ben. She wanted children. But she couldn’t have both.

Slowly she exhaled her breath in a huge sigh. ‘I can take that as a no then. But, Ben, you’re only thirty-one. Too young to be shutting down your life.’

His jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘It wouldn’t be fair for me to promise something I can’t deliver.’

‘I...I understand.’ But she didn’t. Not really.

She shifted. The hard boards of the dock were getting uncomfortable.

‘And I appreciate your honesty.’

His gaze was shrewd. ‘But it’s not good enough for you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. It’s not.’

Now she felt the floodgates were open. ‘It was compromise all the way with Jason. I wanted marriage and kids. He said he had to get used to the idea. I moved in with him when I didn’t want to live together without being married. Fine for other people. Too insecure for me. But I went along with him, put my own needs on hold.’ Her attempt at laughter came out sharp-edged and brittle. ‘Now I hear he’s not only married, but his wife is pregnant.’

‘That...that must have been a shock.’

‘I can’t go there again, Ben. Can’t stay here waiting for heaven knows how long for you to get the courage to put the past behind you and commit to a future with me.’

Ben looked down at where the water slapped against the posts. She followed his gaze to see a translucent jellyfish floating by to disappear under the dock, its ethereal form as insubstantial as her dreams of a life with Ben.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She didn’t know whether he was apologising for Jason or because he couldn’t give her the reassurances she wanted.

‘I...I won’t make all the compromises again, Ben,’ she said brokenly. ‘No matter how much I love you.’

She slapped her hand to her mouth.

The ‘L’ word.

She hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out.

Say it, Ben. Tell me you love me. Let me at least take that away with me.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

And that told her everything.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, his voice as husky as she’d ever heard it. ‘I can’t be what you want me to be.’

If he told her she could do better than him she’d scream so loud they’d hear it all the way to New Zealand.

Instead he pulled her to him, held her tight against his powerful chest. It was the place she most wanted to be in the world. But she’d learned that compromise which was all one way wouldn’t make either of them happy.

‘I’m sorry too,’ she murmured, fighting tears. ‘But I’m not sorry I took that turn-off to Dolphin Bay. Not sorry we had our four-day fling.’

He pulled her to her feet. ‘It’s not over. We still have this evening. Tonight.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s perfect the way it is. I don’t want to ruin the memories. I...I couldn’t deal with counting down the hours to the last time we’ll see each other.’

With fingers that trembled she traced down his cheek to the line of his jaw, trying to memorise every detail of his face. She realised she didn’t have any photos to remember him by. Recalled there’d been a photographer at the dinner dance. She would check the website and download one. But not until she could look at his image and smile rather than weep.

‘Sandy—’ he started.

But she silenced him with a kiss—short, sweet, final.

‘If you say you’re sorry one more time I’ll burst into tears and make a spectacle of myself. I’m going back to my room now. I’ve got phone calls to make. E-mails to send. Packing to do.’

A nerve flickered near the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll call by later to...to say goodbye.’

‘Sure,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice under control. ‘But I’m saying my goodbye now. No regrets. No what-ifs. Just gratitude for what we had together.’

She kissed him again. And wondered why he didn’t hear the sound of her heart breaking.

* * *

Ben couldn’t bear to watch Sandy walk away. He turned and made his way to the boathouse. Every step was an effort, as if he were fighting his way through a rip.

His house seemed empty and desolate—the home of a solitary widower. There was a glass next to the sink with Sandy’s lipstick on the rim, but no other trace of her. He stripped off his smoke-stained clothes, pulled on his board shorts and headed for Big Ray Beach.

He battled the surf as if it were a foe, not the friend it had always been to him. He let the waves pound him, pummel him, punish him for not being able to break away from his self-imposed exile. The waves reared up over him, as if harnessing his anger at the cruel twist of fate that had brought Sandy back into his life but hadn’t given him the strength to take the second chance she had offered him.

Finally, exhausted, he made his way back to the boathouse.

For one wild moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to come back to the house to find Sandy there. Her bright smile, her welcoming arms, her loving presence.

But the house was bare and sterile, his footsteps loud and lonely on the floorboards. That empty glass on the draining board seemed to mock him. He picked up the photo of him and Sandy on the beach that long-ago summer. All their dreams and hopes had stretched out ahead of them—untainted by betrayal and pain and loss.

He put down the photo with its faded image of first love. He’d lost her then. And he’d been so damned frightened of losing her at some undefined time in the future he’d lost her now.

He slammed his fist down so hard on the dresser that the framed photo flew off the top. He rescued it from shattering on the floor only just in time.

What a damn fool he was.

He’d allowed the fears of the past to choke all hope for the future.

Sandy had offered him a second chance. And he’d blown it.

Sandy. Warm, vibrant, generous Sandy. With her don’t-let-anything-get-you-down attitude.

That special magic she’d brought into his life had nothing to do with the glitter she trailed around with her. Sandy’s magic was hope, it was joy, but most of all it was love.

Love he’d thought he didn’t deserve. With bitterness and self-loathing he’d punished himself too harshly. And by not forgiving himself he’d punished Sandy, too.

The final rusted-over part of him shifted like the seismic movement of tectonic plates deep below the floor of the ocean. It hurt. But not as much as it would hurt to lose Sandy for good.

He had to claim that love—tell her how much she meant to him. Show her he’d found the courage and the purpose to move forward instead of tripping himself up by looking back.

He showered and changed and headed for the hotel.

Practising in his head what he’d say to her, he rode the elevator to Sandy’s room. Knocked on the door. Once. Twice. But no reply.

‘Sandy?’ he called.

He fished out the master key from his wallet and opened the door.

She was gone.

The suitcase with all her stuff spilling out of it was missing. Her bedlinen had been pulled down to the end of the bed. There was just a trace of her vanilla scent lingering in the air. And on the desk a trail of that darn glitter, glinting in the coppery light of the setting sun.

In the midst of the glitter was a page torn out from the fairy notebook she always carried in her bag. It was folded in two and had his name scrawled on the outside.

His gut tightened to an agonising knot. With unsteady hands he unfolded the note.

Ben—thank you for the best four days of my life. I’m so glad I took a chance with you. No regrets. No ‘what ifs’. Sandy xx.’

He fumbled for his mobile. To beg her to come back. But her number went straight to voicemail. Of course it did. She wouldn’t want to talk to him.

He stood rooted to the ground as the implications of it all hit him.

He’d lost her.

Then he gave himself a mental shaking.

He could find her again.

It would take at least ten hours for her to drive to Melbourne. More if she took the coastal road. It wasn’t worth pursuing her by car.

In the morning he’d drive to Sydney, then catch a plane to Melbourne.

He’d seek her out.

And hope like hell that she’d listen to what he had to say.

* * *

Sandy had abandoned her plan to mosey down the coastal road to Melbourne. Instead she cut across the Clyde Mountain and drove to Canberra, where she could connect to the more straightforward route of the Hume Highway.

She didn’t trust herself to drive safely in the dark after the emotional ups and downs of the day. A motel stop in Canberra, then a full day’s driving on Thursday would get her to Melbourne in time to check in to her favourite hotel and be ready to wow the candle people on Friday morning.

She would need to seriously psyche herself up to sound enthusiastic about a retail mall candle shop when she’d fallen in love with a quaint bookshop on a beautiful harbour.

Her hands gripped tight on the steering wheel.

Who was she kidding?

It was her misery at leaving Ben that she’d have to overcome if she was going to impress the franchise owners.

She’d cried all the way from Dolphin Bay. Likely she’d cry all the way from Canberra to Melbourne. Surely she would have run out of tears by the time she faced the interview panel?

She pulled into the motel.

Ben would have read her note by now. Maybe it had been cowardly to leave it. But she could not have endured facing him again, knowing she couldn’t have him.

No regrets. No regrets. No regrets.

Ben was her once-in-a-lifetime love. But love couldn’t thrive in a state of inertia.

She’d got over Ben before. She’d get over him again.

Soon her sojourn in Dolphin Bay would fade into the realm of happy memories. She had to keep on telling herself that.

And pray she’d begin to believe it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BEN REMEMBERED SANDY telling him about her favourite hotel in the inner-city Southbank district of Melbourne—all marble, chandeliers and antiques. He’d teased her that it sounded too girly for words. She’d countered that she liked it so much better than his preferred stark shades of grey.

He’d taken a punt that that was where she would be staying. A call to Reception had confirmed it. He walked from his ultra-contemporary hotel at the other end of the promenade that ran along the banks of the Yarra River. He’d wait all day at her hotel to see her if he had to.

It was a grey, rainy morning in Melbourne, mitigated by the brilliant colours of a myriad umbrellas. Ben watched a hapless duck struggling to swim across the wide, fast-flowing brown waters of the Yarra.

Was his mission doomed to such a struggle?

He found the hotel and settled in one of the comfortable velvet chairs in the reception area. He didn’t have to wait for long. He sensed Sandy was there before he glanced up.

He was shocked at how different she looked. She wore a sleek black suit with a tight skirt that finished above her knees and high-heeled black shoes. A laptop in a designer bag was slung across her shoulder. Her hair was sleek, her mouth glossy with red lipstick.

She looked sexy as hell and every inch the successful businesswoman.

Sandy the city girl.

It jolted him to realise how much he’d be asking her to give up. Now she was back in her own world would she want to settle for running a small-town bookshop in Dolphin Bay?

She must have felt his gaze on her, and stopped mid-stride as he rose from the chair. He was gratified that her first reaction was a joyous smile. But then she schooled her face into something more neutral.

For a moment that seemed to stretch out for ever they stood facing each other in the elegant surrounds of the hotel. He had to get it right this time. There wouldn’t be another chance.

* * *

Sandy’s breath caught.

Ben.

Unbelievably handsome and boldly confident in a superbly cut charcoal-grey suit. Her surf god in the city. She had trouble finding her voice.

‘What are you doing here?’ she finally managed to choke out.

He stepped closer. ‘I’ve come to tell you how much I love you. How I always loved the memory of you.’

Ben. This troubled, scarred man she adored. He had come all the way to Melbourne to tell her he loved her, smack in the middle of a hotel lobby.

She kept her voice low. ‘I love you too. But it doesn’t change the reasons why I left Dolphin Bay.’

‘You gave me the kick in the butt I needed. I’m done with living with past scars. I want a future. With you.’

He looked around. Became aware they were attracting discreet interest.

‘Can we talk?’

‘My room,’ she said.

They had the elevator to themselves and she ached to kiss him, to hold him. That would only complicate things, but for the first time she allowed herself a glimmer of hope for a future with Ben.

* * *

Ben was grateful for the privacy of Sandy’s hotel room. He took both her hands in his. Pulled her close. Looked deep into her eyes. ‘More than anything I want a life with you.’

‘Me too, Ben.’

‘That life would be empty without a child. Our child.’

He watched her face as the emotions flashed over it. She looked more troubled than triumphant.

‘Oh, Ben, you don’t have to say that. I don’t want you to force yourself to do something so important as having children because you think it’s what I want. That...that won’t work.’

The fear he’d been living with for five years had been conquered by her brave action in walking away from him.

‘It’s for your sake, yes. But it’s also for my own.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I want to be a dad again some day.’

The loss of Liam had been tragic. All potential for that little life gone in a terrible, pointless fire. But no matter how much he blamed himself, he knew deep in his gut he had not been responsible for those out-of-control flames. No one could have predicted how the wind had changed. No one could have saved Jodi and his son.

‘I know you were a brilliant father in the little time you were granted with Liam. Everyone told me that.’

‘I did my best.’

The four words echoed with sudden truth.

He deserved a second chance. Another son. A daughter. A baby who would grow into a child, like Amy, and then a teenager like he and Sandy had been when they met. It would not diminish the love he’d felt for Jodi and Liam.

‘I want a family again, Sandy, and I want it with you. We’ll be good parents.’

Exulting, he kissed her—a long, deep kiss. But there was more he needed to talk about before he could take her back home with him. He broke the kiss, but couldn’t bear to release her hands from his.

‘How did your interview go?’ he asked.

‘The Melbourne store is mine if I want it.’ She was notably lacking in enthusiasm.

‘Do you want it? Because if your answer is yes I’ll move to Melbourne.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’d do that?’

‘If it’s what it takes to keep you,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘Of course I don’t want it. I want to buy Bay Books from Ida and knock through into the space next door to make a bookshop/café. I want to have author talks. Cooking demonstrations. A children’s storyteller.’

The words bubbled out of her—and they were everything he wanted to hear.

‘I want to ask Ida to order matching carvings for the café from her Balinese woodcarver.’

‘That can be arranged. I own the café. The lease is yours.’ He ran his finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. ‘Will you come back to Dolphin Bay with me?’

* * *

Sandy was reeling from Ben’s revelations. But he hadn’t mentioned marriage—and she wanted to be married before she had children.

She’d feared he was too damaged to love again—and look what had happened. What was to stop her proposing?

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I want to come back to Dolphin Bay. Be with you. But I—’

He silenced her with a finger over her mouth. ‘One more thing.’

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Life is short. There’s no time to waste. We could date some more. Live together. But I’d rather we made it permanent. Marry me?’

In spite of all his pain and angst and loss he’d come through it strong enough to love again. To commit.

But she didn’t kid herself that Ben’s demons were completely vanquished. He’d still need a whole lot of love, support and understanding. As his wife, she could give it to him by the bucketload. Ben still had scars—and she’d help him to heal.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, yes and yes.’

He picked her up and whirled her around until she was dizzy.

They were laughing and trying to talk at the same time, interspersing words with quick, urgent kisses.

‘I don’t want a big white wedding,’ she said.

‘I thought on the beach?’

‘Oh, yes! In bare feet. With Amy as a flower girl. And Hobo with a big bow around his neck.’

Her fairy notebook would be filling up rapidly with lists.

‘We can live in the boathouse.’

‘I’d love that.’

‘Build a big, new house for when we have kids.’

Maybe it was because her emotions had been pulled every which way, but tears welled in her eyes again. Ben had come so far. And they had so far to go together.

She blinked them away, but her voice was wobbly when she got the words out. ‘That sounds like everything I’ve ever dreamed of...’

She thought back to her goals, written in pink.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from DARING TO TRUST THE BOSS by Susan Meier.

CHAPTER ONE

“I’M OLIVIA PRENTISS, here for my first day in Accounting.”

The gray-haired Human Resources director glanced up with a smile. “Good morning, Olivia. Welcome to Inferno.” She happily flipped through the files in a box on her desk, but when she found the one with “Olivia Prentiss” written on the tab, she winced. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

Vivi’s stomach dropped to the floor. “I’m not hired?”

“No. No. Nothing like that. You’ve been reassigned temporarily.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tucker Engle’s assistant was in an accident last week.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She knew Tucker Engle was the CEO and chairman of the board of Inferno. Before she’d interviewed for this job, she’d researched the company and his name had popped up. But the company’s annual statements had said little about the reclusive billionaire. When she’d searched the internet, she’d only found an interview with the Wall Street Journal and a Facebook rant by a former employee who had called him the Grim Reaper because the only time he came out of his ivory tower was to fire someone. Still, none of that information gave her any clue what his assistant’s accident had to do with her.

“As the newest employee in the company, it falls to you to stand in for Betsy.”

Her already-fallen stomach soured. She had to work directly with a guy called the Grim Reaper by his staff?

She gulped. “An accountant stands in for a personal assistant?”

“You won’t be a personal assistant.”

Following the sound of the deep male voice, Vivi swung around. A tall, dark-haired man leaned against the door frame. Her gaze crawled from his shiny black loafers up his black trousers and suit jacket, past his white shirt and sky-blue tie to a pair of emerald-green eyes.

Wow.

“Or even an administrative assistant. You’ll be an assistant.” He pushed away from the door frame and walked over to her. “The assistant to the chairman of the board. The assistant who must be able to read financial reports and change things I need to have changed. An assistant who has to be able to keep up.” His lush mouth thinned. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Intimidation froze her limbs, her tongue, and she could only stare.

“Good.” Obviously taking her silence for acceptance, he headed for the door. “Spend the twenty minutes you need with Mrs. Martin to get your ID badge and fill out your paperwork then report to my office.”

He strode out and she stared at the empty space he left in his wake.

“He’s a whirlwind.”

Obviously, Mrs. Martin was paid to say nice things because Vivi wouldn’t call him a whirlwind. He was more like a bully. A really good-looking bully, but still a bully.

Bile rose to her throat, but she shoved it down again. She’d dealt with bullies before. “I take it that’s Tucker Engle.”

“In the gorgeous flesh.”

“He demoted me even before I started.”

Mrs. Martin shook her head. “It’s not a demotion. That’s what he was telling you. The assistant job is a lot more than you think it is.”

“But I need to start my real job now. I have to keep my skills sharp to take the CPA exam. I don’t want to fall behind.”

“You’ll be working with the Tucker Engle. The man who leads Inferno. You’ll see everything he does—learn everything he knows.”

That didn’t mesh with the picture painted in the Facebook rant, but it sounded promising. Like something she could cling to to force herself to be able to work with him. “So he’ll teach me things?”

“I don’t know about teaching, per se.” Mrs. Martin motioned for her to sit in the chair in front of her desk. She pointed to a little camera attached to her computer monitor. “Take a seat so I can get your employee picture.”

Vivi sat.

“Anyway, I don’t know about him teaching you, but you’ll learn a lot working with him. He built this company—”

“With help.”

“Help?” Mrs. Martin laughed. “You think he had help? Everybody who works here supports him. He’s the idea man. No one else.”

That did mesh with what she’d read. In the interview he’d given the Wall Street Journal, he’d bragged that he used only accountants, lawyers, PR people—support staff. He didn’t want, or need, an equal.

“Fantastic.”

Mrs. Martin smiled sympathetically. “I understand you’re disappointed. You see this as a setback. And I probably can’t talk you out of that.” She paused and sucked in a resigned breath. “So, I’m going to stop the sugarcoating and be totally honest with you. Tucker Engle is a suspicious prima donna. He gives assignments piecemeal so that no one can figure out what he’s working on. He’s so demanding that none of our employees would volunteer to replace Betsy—even for a few weeks.”

Her heart stuttered. “And you think I can?”

“I didn’t pick you. We gave Mr. Engle the files of the accountants starting today and he chose you. Like it or not, you’re stuck. But Betsy won’t be out forever. Eight weeks—”

Her eyes bulged. “Eight weeks?”

Mrs. Martin grimaced. “Twelve tops.”

“Oh, my God!”

“But you still get your accountant’s salary. And your time with Mr. Engle counts in your seniority with the company. It’s not as if you’ll be starting over when Betsy returns.”

“No, thanks. I’ll just keep my job in Accounting.”

Mrs. Martin sighed. “How good do you think it’s going to look on your employee records if you refuse your first assignment?”

“It’s not the position I was hired for.”

“Nonetheless, it’s your first assignment and if you don’t take it, he may tell us to fire you.”

She was really, really sorry she’d found that Facebook rant because she couldn’t even argue that. “Of course he will.”

Mrs. Martin’s face fell into sympathetic lines. “The other option is to quit.”

* * *

“The other option is to quit.”

Vivi muttered those words under her breath as she made her way through the maze of red-,

orange- and yellow-walled corridors, looking for the private elevator to the executive office. She finally reached it and inserted the magic key card that would start the plush car, giving her access to the inner sanctum of Inferno. Which, she was beginning to think, had been named appropriately since this company really might be the pits of hell.

The doors swished closed and she shut her eyes. She was the toughest person she knew. She had survived an attack at university that had nearly ended in her being raped and the bullying that had resulted when she’d tried to prosecute the boy involved—the son of Starlight, Kentucky’s leading family. One grouchy, narcissistic CEO would not stop her from reaching her dream of being somebody. Somebody so important that the people back in Starlight would see that despite all their attempts to break her, she had succeeded.

They had failed.

And Tucker Engle wouldn’t break her either.

The elevator bell pinged. The doors opened again. Like Dorothy entering Oz, she stepped out, glancing around in awe. Contrasting the slick, ultramodern red, orange and yellow “fire” theme of the public areas, this space was superconservative. Ceiling-high cherrywood bookcases lined the walls. The antique desk and chair could have been in a museum. Oriental rugs sat on luxurious hardwood floors.

“Don’t just stand there! Come in!”

She pivoted around, following the sound of Tucker Engle’s voice. He stood in a huge office behind the one she had entered. A cherrywood conference table sat on one side, a comfy brown leather sofa and recliner grouping filled the other. A desk and chair fronted a wall of windows at the back of the room. The view of the New York skyline took her breath away.

She walked to the desk she suspected was hers, removed her jacket and dropped it and her backpack to the chair. Then she gingerly made her way to the grand office.

Standing behind the carved desk, Tucker Engle removed his black suit coat and carried it to a hidden closet. His back to her, he slid it onto a hanger, and her gaze fell to his butt. Perfect butt. His trousers were cut with such precision that they all but caressed him. His simple white shirt outlined a swimmer’s back. She could virtually see the ripple of his muscles through the silky fabric. If he didn’t do laps in a pool every day, he did something.

She swallowed just as he turned.

“What?”

She swallowed again. Add what appeared to be a perfect body to his dark hair and chiseled features, and he had to be one of the most handsome men on the planet. And he’d just caught her staring at him.

“Nothing.”

“Good. Because we have lots to do.” He sat and motioned her to one of the two captain’s chairs in front of his desk. “Anything you hear in this office is confidential.”

She bit her tongue to stop the duh that wanted to escape. Not only was that immature, but she had to work with this guy. For weeks…maybe months!

“I’ll need more than a dumbfounded look, Miss Prentiss. I’ll need a verbal yes.”

“Yes. I know about confidentiality. I took ethics classes.”

He leaned back. His shirt stretched across his muscular chest. “Lots of people take ethics classes. Not everybody has ethics.”

Her eyes narrowed. After two years of being called a liar—a girl who “claimed” she was attacked, most likely in the hope of extorting money—she hated having her integrity questioned. Fury surged through her, but she stopped it. Anger had never gotten her anywhere. A cool head and resolve had.

“I have ethics and I’ll keep your secrets.”

“Great. Then let’s start by filling you in on my latest project. It’s the reason I couldn’t muddle through the next few weeks with the help of only secretarial support staff.”

“Mrs. Martin said you wouldn’t tell me your project. That you’d give me assignments piecemeal so I wouldn’t be able to guess what you were doing.”

“Mrs. Martin is ill informed.”

“Maybe you should correct that impression.”

His eyebrows rose. “Maybe you should remember with whom you’re speaking. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Or even make suggestions. Your only job is to perform the tasks I give you.”

Embarrassment flooded her. Damn her defense mechanisms for clicking in. She might be proud of the confidence and courage she’d developed to deal with the bullies who’d pushed her around after Cord Dawson attacked her, but Tucker Engle wasn’t pushing her around. He was her boss. He was supposed to give her orders.

“Are we clear?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Good.” He rose, came around to the front of the desk and rifled through some files sitting in the corner. “Constanzo Bartulocci is looking to retire. Do you know who he is?”

“No.” The spicy scent of his aftershave drifted to her and her gaze ambled along his torso, down the neat crease of his obviously expensive trousers to his shiny, shiny shoes. If this guy hadn’t grown up with money, somebody, somewhere had taught him how to dress. “I don’t know who Constanzo Bartulocci is.”

“Of course you don’t. The über-rich have ways of keeping themselves out of the limelight.”

Well, that explained why she hadn’t found much about Tucker Engle on the internet.

He located the file he was looking for and returned to his chair. “He never married and he has no children. But he has two nephews and a niece, all three of whom claim to speak for him. Our first job is to weed through the baloney and see who really does know his plans. Our second is to get that person to give us the inside scoop so I know exactly what to offer him for his entire operation.”

“You’re going to buy a whole conglomerate?”

“Not your place to question, remember?”

“Yes. Sorry.” She drew in a breath. How was she going to deal with this guy? Rich, successful and good-looking were bad enough. But she wasn’t accustomed to corralling her tongue. Sometimes she even prided herself on being sassy—never letting anybody push her around, condescend to her, make her feel less than.

It would be a long eight weeks if she didn’t soon figure out how to keep her place. That is, if he didn’t fire her for insubordination.

He handed a file across the desk to her. “Your first assignment is to check the financial reports and records of all of our Bartuloccis.”

She glanced up into his bright green eyes and her stomach fluttered. The assignment was pretty much what she’d expected to be doing in the accounting department. So part of the flutter was relief. But the other half came from those striking emerald eyes. He really was one gorgeous guy.

One gorgeous, difficult guy, she quickly reminded herself. The difficult canceled out the handsome. And even if it didn’t, she’d gone this route before. Cord Dawson had been rich and smart. And in the end, he’d attacked her, nearly raped her. No matter how gorgeous, she wanted nothing to do with another rich guy. She wasn’t in their league. Didn’t know how to play in their world. It was a lesson she’d never forget.

Taking the file, she rose. “Okay.”

He returned his attention to the papers on his desk. “Shut the door on your way out.”

She gladly left his office. Closing the door behind her, she squeezed her eyes shut in misery. Even if she learned to hold her tongue, it would be a long eight weeks.

* * *

Tucker Engle picked up the employment application, college transcripts, private investigator’s report and reference letters HR had sent on Olivia Prentiss. He’d reviewed it all before he’d chosen her, of course, but after meeting her, he needed to be reminded why she’d been his choice to stand in for Betsy.

Excellent grades.

Reference letters that sang her praises as if she were the next Queen of England.

A Facebook profile without pictures of cats—always a plus.

A Twitter account that barely got used. So she wasn’t a talker, someone who might inadvertently spill secrets.

Private investigator’s report that showed only one incident that had happened her second year at university. A kid from Starlight had sued her for slander. But he’d later dropped the suit. Tucker suspected it was one of those young-love, he-said–she-said things.

Otherwise, she came from a normal blue-collar family in Middle America. Which, he grudgingly admitted, explained why she didn’t understand that working directly with him was a coup, not a punishment. God knows, he would have loved someone to give him this kind of opportunity when he’d been through school and starting out in the work world. But after years of moving from home to home as a foster child, he knew it wasn’t wise to get close to people he could lose. So, there had been no one to so much as offer him a word of advice when he’d finally started his career. Still, he’d been okay. He’d worked his way to the top—the same way the professors who’d written Olivia’s reference letters said she wanted to. Actually, she was a lot like him. Bright. Ambitious.

Unfortunately, she was a little prettier than he’d expected with her long strawberry blonde hair and her big blue eyes. But he would never get involved with a coworker. Plus, he didn’t get involved with women just because they were pretty. He liked his dates to have some class, some charisma and a lot of knowledge. Etiquette and protocol could be taught. And there might be charisma lurking behind Olivia Prentiss’s quirkiness. But knowledge? The ability to chat with his peers at a cocktail party or gallery opening? She wouldn’t come by that for years. Thus, she did not appeal to him.

Luckily, he hadn’t chosen her to be a date. He’d chosen her to write reports, change reports, analyze reports. Her high marks in her accounting classes indicated she could probably do anything he needed to have done.

Satisfied, he made two conference calls. Just as he disconnected the second, his door opened.

“I’m sorry—”

Temper rumbled through him. It was one thing to be clueless about the etiquette of an executive office, to need some experience. It was another to be rude and open a door without knocking. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know how to operate the space shuttle’s worth of computer equipment you refer to as a phone, and a call—”

He sighed. “You’re supposed to screen calls. I don’t talk to just anybody who phones. Go find out who it is. Take their number. I’ll decide if I’m calling back.”

Her mouth thinned. Her pretty blue eyes filled with storm clouds.

Fine. He didn’t like wimps. But he also didn’t like interruptions. And there was no better way for an assistant to learn that than by having to go back to her desk and apologize to a caller.

“It isn’t a caller. At least not a call for you. The security guard in the lobby is on the line. You have a guest.”

“Same instructions. I don’t see people who just drop in. Call the lobby, tell them to get the person’s name and if I want to I will call him back and schedule an appointment.”

“Okay. I guess that means you don’t want to see Maria Bartulocci.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“Maria Bartulocci is here. She wants to know if you have time for her. I guess the über-rich don’t just know how to keep themselves out of the limelight. They also drop in unexpectedly.”

He replaced the receiver of his phone. “Tell them to send her up. Then get a notebook. I want you to sit in and take notes.”

She nodded and raced back to her desk.

Missing experienced, polite, sophisticated Betsy, Tucker ran his fingers through his hair. Two minutes later the elevator bell rang. He listened as Olivia greeted Maria and sighed with relief when she was nothing but polite and efficient.

Thick cloying perfume reached him long before dark-haired, dark-eyed Maria did. Tall and regal, educated at Harvard, and well-versed in art and music, Maria was exactly the kind of woman Tucker liked to be seen with. Arm candy with a brain.

“Tucker, how sweet of you to make time for me.”

* * *

Vivi almost gagged. Holy cow on the cologne, but calling Tucker Engle sweet? This woman obviously wanted something.

“I’m sorry for the wait.” He glanced at Olivia, then smiled at Maria. “A little miscommunication with my assistant.”

Vivi shook off the insult of that. He hadn’t told her any of his preferences, especially not about calls. But he probably assumed she knew those kinds of things, which meant she’d have another assignment that night. Not only did she have to figure out how to stifle her tongue, but she’d have to call her mom, a lifelong administrative assistant, to learn a bit about working for the top banana of a company.

“I’m thrilled you decided to drop in on us.” Tucker seated Maria with him on the sofa and motioned for Vivi to sit on the chair beside it.

She opened her notebook.

Maria smiled at her. “No need to record our conversation, darling.”

“Miss Prentiss isn’t going to record our conversation, just the salient points.”

Laughing, she patted Tucker’s knee. “Is your memory that bad, Tucker?”

He slid his arm across the sofa, and nearly around Maria. “There are three of you. I’m going to talk with all of you and compare stories.”

Her lips turned down into a pretty pout. “Really? You don’t trust me?”

He chuckled. “A man doesn’t get to where I am without having fail-safe mechanisms in place. Miss Prentiss is one of them.”

Maria’s gaze crawled over to her.

She took in Vivi’s khaki trousers and simple white blouse. Then the long strawberry blonde hair Vivi had put into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder.

“I see.”

A flush crept up Vivi’s neck to her cheeks. As if the condescending appraisal wasn’t bad enough, Maria Bartulocci’s tone dripped with disapproval.

Memories of walking down the street, being pointed at, whispered about and called names rushed through her. It had been a long time since she’d remembered that, but it had also been a while since she’d been with someone who so clearly disliked her.

Still, those bullies had nothing to do with her job, so she ignored the feelings, the memories. She’d learned lots of coping skills in the three years that had passed, and it would take more than a crappy look from a snotty socialite to drag her down.

Tucker said, “Rumor has it your uncle is considering retiring.”

“That’s not a rumor. It’s true.”

“Has he set a date?”

“More like a time frame. Next spring.” Maria rose. “Take me to lunch and I’ll tell you about your competition.”

Tucker followed suit, rising to stand beside her. “I know my competition.”

“Such a smart man,” Maria purred, stepping up to him and running her hand down his tie. “Let’s leave the little one behind and get ourselves a drink.” She flicked her gaze at Vivi with a laugh. “Really, Tucker, where did you find this one? And why don’t you pay her enough to buy decent clothes?”

Vivi’s mouth fell open. Seriously? A stinky debutante who was throwing herself at a man had the audacity to criticize her clothes?

Tucker caught Maria’s hand and led her to the elevator, leaving Vivi behind without a backward glance or even a nod toward telling her how long he’d be gone or how he could be reached in an emergency.

“I don’t care what my employees look like. They only have to be able to do their jobs.”

The elevator door opened. “I know, but seriously. Did you get a look at her?”

She heard Tucker’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he said or Maria’s reply. The door closed on his laugh.

Vivi glanced down at herself. These were her best trousers, her best blouse. And even she knew she looked like a street waif.

She might have coping mechanisms, but she couldn’t argue the truth. She didn’t belong here.

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Susan Meier

Resisting Her Ex’s Touch

Amber McKenzie

Anger became the dominant emotion as she turned to look at Matt, who was asleep on top of the blankets with one arm extended across her.

That explained the weight.

He was wearing a ragged Brown University T-shirt and jeans, and looked too much like the old Matt—her Matt.

As if on cue he opened his eyes, and a few inches away she saw the familiar blue that looked softer than she had seen it since their reunion. Her heart fluttered and she forgot her anger. He didn’t say anything, and she was too overwhelmed with memories of the past to tear her eyes from his, still trying to understand the man she’d thought she once knew.

His eyes didn’t have the answers—seemed only to have more questions for her. She watched as he propped himself up on one arm. His other hand moved from her waist to the side of her face, his wide palm spanning her cheek, his fingers in her hair. His eyes changed then, darkening as his pupils widened and his mouth came down on hers.

Dear Reader

It is my true belief that at the heart of every woman is a romantic. In some way or another we all envisage our hero and the moments that will perhaps change our lives forever. My parents, however, raised a very practical young woman who was taught from an early age not to look for a hero to complete me, but instead to complement and enrich a life I had built for myself.

Throughout my prolonged fourteen years in postsecondary education I gained that partner, and a further respect for my parents’ teaching. I have been privileged to have met and worked with some of the finest, most beautiful and most dedicated female physicians around. By the end of my training, when life was moving away from textbooks and on to ways to maintain a decent work/life balance, a spark began to burn.

As a lifelong reader of Harlequin Mills & Boon® books. I always had dreams of what I considered the perfect book—And then I realised. Who would be better heroines than my friends? Women who are gorgeous, smart and by all means successful, but maybe have some unconsidered challenges when it comes to finding love. Meet Kate, a combination of many of my friends, and aptly named, as thirty percent of my colleagues at one time were named Kate. Her story is completely original, though, featuring some of my most favourite romantic gestures, from emotional torment in the rain to forehead-kisses.

My debut novel, RESISTING HER EX’S TOUCH, is the first of hopefully many forays into the perfect romance. I hope that you fall in love and gain the same admiration that I have for the men and women who devote their lives to the world of medicine.

Amber

AMBER McKENZIE’s love of romance and all the drama a good romance entails began in her teenage years. After a lengthy university career, multiple degrees and one formal English class, she found herself happily employed as physician and happily married to her medical school sweetheart.

She rekindled her passion for romance during her residency and began thinking of the perfect story. She quickly decided that the only thing sexier than a man in scrubs was a woman in scrubs. After finishing training and starting practice she started writing her first novel. Harlequin’s So You Think You Can Write contest came at a perfect time, and after a few good edits from her wildlife biologist childhood best friend the manuscript was submitted and the rest is history!

Amber currently lives in Canada with her husband. She does her best to juggle her full-time medical practice with her love of writing and reading and other pursuits—from long-distance running to domestic goddess activities like cooking and quilting. Multi-tasking has become an art form and a way of life.

RESISTING HER EX’S TOUCH

is Amber McKenzie’s debut novel for Mills & Boon ® Medical Romance ™

There is nothing better in life than the people who love and support you and inspire you to be better than you ever thought you could be.

My love and gratitude to my mom Linda, my ultimate best friend Jennie, and my amazing husband Kyle.

Table of Contents

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER ONE

HER HEART POUNDED against her chest, keeping cadence with the rhythm her heeled boots made against the linoleum floor. She had everything to lose and little to no control over an outcome that was going to decide her future. Some people would take comfort in knowing they were in the right and hadn’t done anything wrong, but not Dr. Kate Spence. She had learned early in life that bad things happened whether you deserved them or not.

She walked through the corridors of Boston General with reluctant determination. For the first time in five years she felt out of place in the hospital. She was used to being in her element, dressed in surgical scrubs with her entire focus on her job as a general surgery resident. Today was different. Every fiber of her being was on alert and she was conscious of waiting for the intense foreboding sensation that had come over her in the past several weeks to be fulfilled.

After years of school and sacrifice, Kate had almost made it. She had made it as a doctor, as a surgeon, and in three months’ time would be starting a fellowship in New York, in one of the most acclaimed hospitals in the country. She had three months left of residency and then she was done in Boston and on her way to New York to complete her final training and have a second chance at a new beginning.

They had called it a strategy meeting, whatever that was supposed to mean. The only thing that had registered with Kate was that they were going to have to talk about “that night” and the guilt was overwhelming.

Kate took a deep breath and tried to gather her mind and her facial expression into that of the composed professional she was widely regarded as being. She was the chief resident of general surgery in one of the nation’s top five surgical programs. She arrived at work no later than five-thirty every morning and was never home before seven—and that was on evenings when she got home, because most nights she stayed and operated. Being in the operating room, fixing people, had become her salvation in life. She loved the feeling of working meticulously at something, never knowing what challenges lay inside and pushing herself to overcome all the difficulties and limitations that could arise.

In a place where things could easily get out of control, Kate felt the most in control, confident in her ability to get the job done and do what was needed for her patient.

Kate pushed through the frosted glass door leading to The conference room and took in the scene. Sitting at the large wooden conference table were all of the expected people. The hospital’s chief executive officer, lawyer, chief of staff, and Dr. Tate Reed, Vascular Surgeon, her co-defendant and ex-boyfriend as of six months ago.

She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it still hurt more than she had prepared herself for. No one liked facing their own mistakes and Kate rarely made mistakes. She had taken an oath to do no harm and had promised herself years ago that she would never be responsible for causing someone she loved pain, and she hadn’t until Tate. It had been six months and every day she regretted what had happened between them. She had never fallen in love with him and that horrible night she had been forced to accept that he wasn’t the man for her no matter how hard she had tried to feel otherwise.

When she walked in, every face peered up at her with acknowledgement, except for one, who refused to acknowledge her presence.

“Good afternoon Dr. Spence, please take a seat,” Dr. Williamson, the chief of staff instructed.

Then and only then did he look up and their eyes meet. The same combination of hurt and anger that had been there six months earlier stared back at her. The worst part was that she knew she deserved it. She felt every muscle in her face strain as she struggled to maintain a neutral expression and conceal the feelings of hurt and regret she felt every time she thought of Tate.

Kate walked towards one of the two empty places at the conference table, choosing the one farthest from Tate. She sat down in the leather chair and wished she could just keep sinking. She looked away and focused her gaze towards the other men, reminding herself that she needed to stay confident and collected. She was the only woman in a room full of the hospital’s most prominent male leaders. There would be plenty of time for guilt and remorse to torture her thoughts later, without an audience.

Jeff Sutherland, the hospital’s lawyer, started the meeting. “As you all know, four weeks ago Boston General, Dr. Reed, Dr. Spence and several other hospital personnel were served with a multimillion-dollar lawsuit for wrongful death on behalf of the Weber family. The lawsuit alleges that there was a critical delay in Mr. Weber reaching the operating room, which lead to his death, and that had he received more timely medical and surgical attention he could have survived his condition.”

“They’re wrong,” Tate responded unequivocally.

Jeff looked up briefly, but continued. “In their affidavit, the Weber family alleges there was a twenty-minute delay and critical time lost between the diagnosis of Michael Weber’s ruptured aortic aneurysm and Dr. Spence’s ability to locate Dr. Reed and communicate the findings. Mr. Weber subsequently did not reach the operating room until fifty-five minutes following diagnosis, and by that time was so unstable that he did not survive attempts made by Dr. Reed to repair the aneurysm.”

“He was never going to survive,” Kate said. She replayed the images of the night in her mind, as she had a countless number of times. That night the happiness then the devastation, the genuine love, followed by pain and loss, had been heartbreaking. It had been the first and only time she had ever wanted out of a case, not to be in the operating room. Working across the table from Tate, knowing it was hopeless, knowing there was nothing left for Mr. Weber or for them. For the first time in her career she had felt like a coward because she hadn’t been able to bring herself to confront Tate with the futility of their actions. She didn’t know if it had been because of what had happened between them or if it had been because on that night she had been unable to bear the prospect of telling Mrs. Weber the man she loved was gone.

Dr. Williamson spoke. “Tate, I have reviewed this case, and in my medical opinion and in the opinion of this hospital you acted in an appropriate and timely manner in your complete care of Mr. Weber. His condition was such that even with immediate surgical intervention he was unlikely to have survived such an extensive rupture. Most vascular surgeons would not have even attempted surgical management, and unfortunately because you did you are now the target of the family’s grief.”

Kate exhaled for what felt like the first time since she had entered the room, grateful for a small reprieve from the nightmare.

“Thank you, David. I appreciate your support,” Tate replied.

She glanced up to look at Tate, her first instinct to share their sense of relief, but he wasn’t looking at her. Her relief that the chief of staff was on their side quickly left her when she remembered there was no “their” any more and that had been her choice.

She focused her attention on the chief of staff, once again mentally trying to separate her professional and personal lives. The problem was that Tate had been both. Between the demands of the hospital and the need to study whenever she wasn’t at the hospital she didn’t have time for a social life, but Tate had come as the complete package. They had become colleagues, then friends, and eventually lovers. Everyone had thought they were a perfect match, everyone except Kate.

Kate was forced to refocus when Dr. Williamson began speaking again.

“Unfortunately, Tate, it is more than my opinion that counts in this matter. The Weber family has been able to document and produce several witnesses who verify a twenty-minute delay in your response to Kate’s repeated attempts to make contact that night. It is this evidence that has led the family to believe they have a case, and despite several medical experts, who all agree that Mr. Weber’s condition was medically and surgically futile, they are bent on having this matter argued in court.”

Kate could not think of anything she wanted less and felt her stomach heave with the implications of a court hearing. The events of that night were completely entwined with every personal and private detail of her life. The thought of her personal life being discussed and examined in public, when she could barely face the details in private, was unfathomable. Kate had had six months to think about that night. Professionally, in her heart and her brain she knew that the delay had not caused Mr. Weber’s death.

“In response to the legal action, the hospital has retained outside counsel to represent all parties named in the lawsuit,” Jeff announced. Kate’s defensive body language and Tate’s unusual silence must have said more than words could express.

“Drs. Spence and Reed, this hospital expects your one hundred percent co-operation with our attorney and in all matters relating to this lawsuit,” Quinn Sawyer, the chief executive officer, announced with finality. “I do not need to impress upon you the risk this hospital and your careers face if this does not go in our favor. I trust your personal relationship, whatever it may be, will not interfere with your ability to protect those interests.”

“I no longer have a personal relationship with Dr. Spence.”

An uncharacteristic flush burned up Kate’s neck, coloring her entire face. She focused on the window, unable to face the humiliation of having her personal life referenced so openly among the most important men of the hospital. She had kept everything about her relationship with Tate private. She had never wanted anyone to think she was getting ahead by any means other than her natural surgical ability and strong work ethic, so it hurt and embarrassed her to think just how un-private things had become and what questions people would have about her now that the relationship had come to light, even if it no longer existed. She barely noticed the door open and close as she fought for control of her emotions.

“Mr. McKayne, I would like to introduce you to our senior management.” Jeff’s voice echoed in the background.

Kate felt her heart stop and then everything around her seemed to be suspended in time. There was no way she could have heard that correctly and she quickly turned to the door, looking for reassurance.

In as long as it took for their eyes to make contact, Kate went from pink to white. She felt a sharp pain hit her chest and tasted bile in the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, hoping for someone different to be standing at the head of the table when she reopened them. Please, not him, anyone but him, she thought, but the man standing at the front of the room was the same. He had not changed in the past ten seconds and, for the most part, not in the past nine years.

Kate was vaguely aware of introductions being shared around the table. She was falling, her mind was in free fall, overwhelmed with flashes from the past and desperately trying to reconcile what was happening in the present. Nothing that was going on inside her was in her control.

“Dr. Spence.”

“Kate.”

“Katherine.” It was Tate’s voice biting out her name for the first time in months that brought her back to the table. Tate was staring at her with a new look of confusion. She had a well-earned reputation for being focused and unshakeable, even in the worst circumstances, until today. Everyone was standing and staring at her. She rose to her feet, praying her legs would support her, and turned to face the group.

“Dr. Kate Spence, this is Matthew McKayne. He will be representing you, Dr. Reed, and the hospital in this matter.”

Kate turned towards Matt and saw that his hand was outstretched towards her. The gesture was appropriate in the circumstances but completely inappropriate given their past. She didn’t want to shake his hand, look at him, or want any part of him in her life. Shock evolved into anger as she once again met the eyes of the one man she never wanted to see again.

Katie was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, though any hint of “girl” had been replaced by a very grown-up and striking woman. Matt struggled to keep his expression neutral as he studied her. She had always been taller than most women, with both a long body and legs to match. Her figure had changed. Gone was the softness from her body and from the expression on her face. The new “Kate” that was standing before him had more of an athletic build. Her legs appeared well toned beneath her fitted dress pants and her waist was more defined, making both her hips and breasts appear more prominent and sensual. Her light blue shirt was tucked in and the top two buttons were undone, only hinting at the curves underneath.

Discomfort tore through Matt’s body as he remembered the old Katie and took in the sight of new Kate. Her hair appeared darker, like a rich dark chocolate, though he couldn’t tell if her hair had changed or merely now appeared darker in comparison to her pale complexion. Her skin still appeared perfect, though, with the pattern of beauty marks he could have drawn from memory.

Then he met her eyes and whatever track his mind had been on, it was sharply derailed. Katie had changed a lot in the last nine years but his enjoyment of those changes was halted by the look in her eyes. It was the same look he had seen the day he’d left, the look that had tortured him for almost a decade.

“Dr. Spence,” he greeted her, the formality of calling Katie by her full title necessary but awkward on his lips. She placed her hand in his and his hand wrapped around hers as though every muscle remembered the feel of her, before she snatched it away and sat back down at the table.

Everyone else followed and Matt took the last remaining chair. That chair was next to Kate, and with his first breath he smelled the familiar scent of her rosemary and mint shampoo, which brought back more memories than the sight of her had.

His position beside her spared him from the look in her eyes. He had known he had hurt her, badly, but he had never imagined that Katie could hate him and what that would feel like face-to-face for the first time.

“Mr. McKayne, Matt, Drs. Reed and Spence have been briefed regarding the details of the lawsuit. They are aware that this hospital and its medical staff are completely behind them and their actions. They are in turn willing to work with you and your team as much as needed to resolve this matter,” the CEO stated. “They have been informed that we expect an honest, full disclosure regarding all the details of that evening, so that we can resolve this lawsuit for both the hospital and the Weber family.”

Matt studied the other men at the table and his focus landed on Tate Reed. In turn Tate appeared to be studying both Matt and Kate with what appeared to be hostile curiosity. He wasn’t the only person who seemed to have noticed the change in her since his arrival.

“We will leave you three to co-ordinate your schedules and work on your response. Matt, if there any difficulties, in any regard, I expect to hear about them sooner rather than later,” the CEO remarked to Matt, with a message that was obviously more for Kate and Tate. The group of men left and the room fell silent.

Kate and Tate remained seated at the table. Tate was looking at the pair of them intently and Kate strongly refused to look at either man. “Do you two know each other?” Tate asked.

“No,” Kate responded firmly, before he could even turn to see her response to the question. When he did turn towards her, her back was straight, her head was high and she was entirely focused on Tate, dismissing Matt completely.

Tate stood from his chair and for the first time since he’d arrived, Matt took a long look at the man he was representing. Tate Reed was tall, similar in height to Matt’s six feet three inches. Where Matt had dark, thick hair and the constant appearance of shadow along his jaw, Tate was dark blond and clean-shaven. Tate was well built; if paired against each other they would both probably be able to do a significant amount of damage before a victor was declared. Tate’s green eyes appeared to similarly be evaluating Matt before he turned his attention back to Kate.

“I wish I could believe you, Katherine.” Tate spoke, and the comment was directed only to her.

“Mr. McKayne, here is my card. I can be available to meet you when you are ready to discuss the medical facts of the case.” He passed Matt the card and then shook his hand with obvious strength and power in his grip.

When the two broke apart, he turned to Kate. “Katherine, try not to make things any worse for me than you already have.”

Tate left the room and Matt turned to look at Kate, who was staring intently at the door Tate had just walked through. Her gray eyes looked stricken and he felt equally struck. He recognized that look in her eyes—it was one that reflected her feelings of pain and love.

“Katie,” he said softly a few moments later, his inherent need to comfort her taking precedence over the jealousy was that simmering inside him.

She flinched and turned to meet his eyes, not bothering to hide her fury. “Do not call me Katie. It’s Kate or, better yet, Dr. Spence.”

“Not Katherine?” He couldn’t resist it, his compassion turning to jealousy and anger.

She stood from her chair and glared down at him. “I meant what I said to Tate. I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you. I don’t know what you were thinking when you came here today, but I don’t need you or your help.”

“I am not sure you have a choice in that. The hospital has hired me to defend you and Dr. Reed, who, in case you haven’t noticed, doesn’t care what happens to you, Katie,” he delivered coldly from his chair, waiting to see if he hit his mark.

He watched her response. Her gray eyes widened, initially looking hurt, then narrowed. She straightened her back and drew her shoulders down to focus on him and he felt instant unease.

“Like I said, it’s Kate, and I guess that makes two of you. The difference being that I care what happens to Tate and you can go to hell.” She turned and walked out of the conference room, seemingly controlled, apart from the slamming of the door behind her.

Too late, Katie, or Kate, he thought, I’m already there.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WANTED TO run. Run to escape the confines of the hospital and her professional reputation. Run until she was so exhausted that there was no chance of being able to think about the lawsuit, Tate, or Matt. Run as far and as hard as she could until the only pain she could feel was the burning in her lungs and the tightness in her chest and not the emptiness in her heart. As she entered the hospital hallway the only other thought in her head was how to get out of the building as quickly as possible without having to talk, see, or take care of anyone else. She needed to be alone, needed to gain control of her thoughts before she risked sharing them with anyone.

“Kate!” She looked up to see her best friend, Chloe Darcy, leaning against the hallway wall, waiting for her. Chloe had been her best friend since the first day of medical school when the two women had sat next to each other, and they had been constants in each other’s lives since. Chloe had chosen emergency medicine and was almost as busy as Kate. The fact that the two women still found time for each other was a tribute to the strength of their relationship. When Kate reached Chloe she felt her friend’s assessment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she replied, turning her head in dissent, her eyes shut against the scene that had just unfolded.

“Okay. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Chloe offered, not pushing Kate, as usual. Kate couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. Chloe was the most beautiful person Kate had ever known, both inside and out. When they had met in medical school Kate had been an emotional disaster and most of her classmates had not made the effort to befriend her, but not Chloe. She had sat by her side daily, never prying, never pushing, just being there for the little things, until Kate had realized that she had found a true friend.

With a sense of horror Kate felt her resolve begin to crumble. Kindness at that very moment had been enough to push her over the edge. Chloe read her friend perfectly.

“Kate, let’s get you out of here before you ruin your macho surgical reputation.” She felt her friend’s strong grip on her arm as she led her down the hall. Moments later they were in the women’s change room, away from at least half of the prying eyes that filled the hospital.

“Kate, I know how private you are but sometimes it does help to talk about things.” Chloe spoke quietly, her voice intentionally no louder than necessary.

Kate stared back at Chloe and knew she could tell her anything. She wanted to pour out every thought and feeling inside her in the hope that the purge would rid her of the maelstrom of emotion tormenting her. But how could you explain to someone something you couldn’t bring yourself to face? “I can’t, Chloe, I just can’t.”

It was the truth. She couldn’t explain what had happened, how she was feeling, what she was going to do, what she should do, and she couldn’t talk about Matt and Tate without completely breaking what little of herself she felt she was still holding together.

Chloe stepped back and Kate could tell she wanted say something and was choosing her words carefully. “Kate, you are one of the strongest women I know and there is nothing you cannot do or overcome. You just need to remind yourself of that more often.”

Perfection, thought Kate. Chloe was always perfect in her words and in her support and her friendship. At that moment Chloe felt like the only secure thing in her life and more than she deserved. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” She smiled weakly at the understatement.

“Keep that in mind, Kate. You can’t keep living your life holding everything on the inside and hidden from those who love and care about you.” It was the closest Chloe had ever come to confronting her and she recognized the truth and sentiment behind her friend’s words.

“I know.” Her acknowledgement surprised even herself. It was another truth to add to the avalanche rolling through her mind and threatening to bury her. “But I can’t, not here and not tonight.”

“I know, Kate. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you to see him today and I don’t expect you to change overnight.”

Kate blanched. How did Chloe know about Matt? She had never talked about Matt to anyone.

Chloe noted her friend’s pallor and lowered her voice even further to ensure complete privacy. “Kate, are you sure you are okay with Tate and I still being friends? You need to be honest with me and tell me if you’re not.”

Kate felt relief wash through her and then guilt for focusing on Matt and forgetting the significance of today’s meeting with Tate. Chloe had been talking about Tate. There was no one other than she and Matt who knew about their past together. Matt was her past and even though he was forcing himself back into her present, what had happened between them was something she had never told anyone about, and she only hoped he had done the same.

Chloe was staring, waiting for a response, and she had to think hard to remember the question.

“Chloe, you are an amazing friend to me and to anyone else you decide to be friends with. If feeling worse about what happened with Tate was possible, thinking that I ruined your friendship with him would make it so.”

She reached over and hugged her friend, trying to convey her emotions with the uncharacteristic action.

“I need to get out of here. Thank you, Chloe, for being my friend and knowing me better than I know myself sometimes.”

“Always.” Chloe smiled.

It was raining and she didn’t care. She didn’t even attempt to avoid puddles as she ran along the trail parallel to the Charles River. She let her feet strike the wet pavement as music blared in her ears and she tried to free herself from the memories that had been flooding her mind since the initial shock of seeing Matt again had worn off. The cold spring rain hit her face and blended with the warm tears that streamed from her eyes. Classic Kate, she chastised herself. Hold everything in as though nothing is wrong and then cry alone so no one can see that you are hurting, so no one thinks you are weak. The irony was that it made her feel even weaker.

As the miles passed she forced herself to accept that Matt McKayne was back in her life and she had no idea why or what he wanted. All she knew was that it was going to be hard, maybe impossible to be around Matt again. For their entire relationship she would have sworn that she knew Matt better than anyone else in the world. Then he had completely proved her wrong and now he was a familiar stranger. A stranger whose motivations and actions she couldn’t predict and didn’t understand. That alone terrified her, but not as much as the feelings she experienced, seeing and being near him again.

She could still describe every inch of Matt—except after today she couldn’t tell if her mind had downplayed his features or if he had become even more beautiful in the intervening years. She hated it that she’d noticed, even in that brief time she had seen him. Hated it that when he’d sat next to her she had recognized his scent. But what she really hated was that when Matt had been sitting next to her, her body had remembered him in all the wrong ways. While the sharp pain in her chest had resurfaced, so had the flood of heat and spasms of attraction that had rippled through her body, the latter being responsible for her shortness of breath.

Even now in the cold rain she could still remember what is was like to be with Matt, and the combination of desire and pain associated with the memory kept her running.

She was being punished, that was the only conclusion she could settle on. This was karma because she had done to Tate what Matt had done to her, and now she was being served up the consequences. She could remember every second of their breakup, recognizing Tate’s look of disbelief and hurt as the one she had worn after Matt had walked out on her. It felt hypocritical to feel this much anger towards Matt, knowing that she wasn’t any better than he was, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t stop her from feeling like there was not enough air and that what was left of her heart was going to die. It didn’t stop the desire to rip into his chest to confirm the heart she’d thought had loved her was not actually there.

She pushed forward, harder, resolving to herself that even though she had hurt Tate, at least the reason she had broken up with him was because it had been the right thing to do for Tate. Matt had broken her heart because it had been the right thing for Matt.

It was dark when Kate started to make her way home. Her apartment was a one-bedroom in a brownstone that had been divided up for rental. It was small and cheap, but it was one of her favorite places in the world. It was the place where no one put demands on her and she could let herself be who she needed to be and not what people expected of her.

Kate had spent a lot of time making her apartment the home she craved and needed. She had chosen the soft cream paint that adorned the walls. Over time she had saved and slowly put together the furniture that made her house a home. The antique wood that filled the space was precious both because of the money it had taken to purchase it and because of the time, her limited time, it had taken to find it at markets and small town shops nearby. Her favorite spot was the deep, wide, soft yellow couch that she probably slept on more than her bed. It was where she felt at peace and that thought propelled her forward to home as her body screamed at her to stop running.

The cold had finally started to set in as she rounded the final corner to her apartment. She knew her clothes were soaked through and she felt the squish of her feet in the watery soles of her shoes. All she could think of was a hot shower and curling up on her couch with her favorite charcoal throw, away from all the memories that were tormenting her.

She didn’t see him in the darkness until she started up the brownstone’s stairs. Her first reaction was fear at the sight of the large man tucked under the staircase awning out of the rain; her second thought was still one of fear when she recognized that man as Matt.

Stay away, her mind screamed at her. She refused to acknowledge him as she reached the door and tried to free her key from inside the wristband she wore for running.

“Katie.” He said her name, asking her with his tone to acknowledge him.

“I can’t talk to you right now. You need to leave,” she said, not looking at him and trying to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m not leaving, Kate,” he replied with a firmness that left her little doubt of her inability to dismiss him.

“Yes, you can, and you did,” she said flatly, staring ahead at the door and refusing to give him any more notice. She didn’t trust herself to look at him so instead looked away. Her attention was drawn to her hands, which were shaking. Her whole body was shaking and the key, which she had managed to get out, dropped onto the concrete step.

“I’m cold,” she declared, hoping he would believe that was the reason for the tremors that were starting to overtake her body.

He didn’t reply. Before she had a chance, he bent down and picked up the key and used it to unlock the building’s front door. He walked through and held the door open, waiting for her to follow. She didn’t. She stood under the awning, staring at him with a sense of panic that was building at the thought of him in her home.

“Kate, you are wet and probably freezing. Please, just come inside. I promise you can despise me just as much from in there.” His new position in front of her forced her to look at him for the first time and she was immediately drawn to his face and eyes. She recognized his expression of concern and it brought her back to all the other times she had thought Matt cared for her. Familiarity propelled her forward.

Once she was inside the building, the warm air and bright lighting brought Kate back to the present. Matt was tall and overpowering in the small entryway. His hair was damp and had started to curl slightly at the ends. The angle of his jaw and the rigid way he held his shoulders gave Kate some indication that he shared her tension. He had changed out of his business suit but was no less stunning in an open leather jacket and dark blue striped shirt that he had left untucked from the jeans, which hugged low on his hips. His sexual power was breathtaking, and she struggled to get her breath back and gain control of the situation.

Never before had she felt self-conscious about her running clothes. But at this moment she desperately wished to be wearing anything other than the black tights and fitted heather-blue base layer top that provided her protection from the cold, but no modesty, outlining every curve of her body. She crossed her arms across her chest and held out one palm.

“Keys?” she asked, trying to adopt the same tone she used in the operating room when calling for an instrument.

He didn’t yield and her sense of discomfort was replaced by anger. “Not until I’m sure you are okay.”

When had it started to matter whether she was okay or not? It hadn’t mattered to Matt nine years ago, and even though she felt far from okay, she resented his concern.

“I’m not your responsibility, Matt. You don’t get to worry about me,” she ground out. She tilted her head upwards, trying to make up the six-inch difference in their height, and held his gaze.

“Easier said than done,” he sighed, and started climbing the stairs towards the second floor. His long legs took the stairs two at a time and before she could react he was at the top.

Not in her home, she thought. Matt could not go into her apartment, her home. It was her refuge, her place where no memories of Matt existed.

She reacted quickly to this thought, running up the stairs and without thinking, wedged herself between him and the apartment door. He wasn’t ready for her movement and his body followed through on its planned course, causing him to fall against her.

She was pressed between Matt and the door, and she didn’t know which one felt harder against her. She started to shake and felt warmth spread through her, his warmth. She could feel every contour of his chest through his open jacket, his shirt slowly dampening from her wet body. He instinctively widened his stance and braced himself with a hand on the door behind her to keep himself from falling any further forward into her. She ended up nestled between his legs, pelvis to pelvis, his upper body bracing over her.

Instinctively, she pressed into him and felt the hard ridge that was increasing in prominence. Beyond the slow roar that was filling her head she heard a small gasp but couldn’t tell if it came from him or her. She wasn’t sure how long they stood pressed against each other, until she felt him pull away at the same time he brought his forehead down to rest against hers, his eyes closed.

“Why?” he demanded quietly.

“Why what?” she whispered, confused and trying to block out the sense of loss his body’s retreat had caused.

“Why don’t you want me in your apartment? Is it about him? Is Tate Reed in there, waiting for you?” His voice was accusing, each new question seeming more condemning than the next. But he kept asking, not pausing, as though not wanting to hear her actual response.

Tate. Every warm enticing feeling she was having left her and she felt cold again as guilt washed over her. She tried to move even further back but felt the wood of the door against her. Tate loved her, Matt had never loved her, and she felt empty inside, thinking about both men.

“I’m not discussing my relationship with Tate with you and you have no right to ask me,” she whispered, not being able to bring her voice above the intimacy his question had possessed but still containing the outrage she felt. “You need to leave.”

He didn’t reply. He simply lifted his forehead, replacing it with his lips. She felt both heat and memories surge through her before he backed away and pressed her key into her hand. She remained against the door as she watched him leave, not trusting herself to move until he was gone.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood against the door even after he left. She felt like part of the wood, except for the small spot where her forehead burned with the memory of his soft lips pressed against her. It took hearing the beat of her shivering against the door to force her into action. She walked through the apartment in the dark, removing her clothes and leaving them in a wet trail behind her.

She stepped into the shower consumed by the cold inside and out. She had loved Matt then she had hated him, and now she had no idea how to feel. Part of her wanted to act out for the first time in her life and force him to tell her why. Why had he done it? But her instinct for self preservation was stronger. No matter what she had told herself about why Matt had left, it would hurt more to hear him say it aloud. Seeing him today had not only brought out her anger but also unleashed every painful question and feeling of self-doubt she had tried to bury away and forget.

It took the water transitioning to cold before she thought of leaving the shower. She changed into scrub bottoms and a cotton tank top and ate the only thing she had the energy to prepare for supper—toast. It wasn’t long before she was lying on the soft yellow couch cocooned within the gray blanket, trying to focus on her medical textbook and not the memories that kept replaying in her mind.

As a child she had been outgoing and bright, ready to tackle and succeed at every challenge presented to her. She had been fearless with the knowledge that her parents had always been behind her, supporting her and loving her. Then things had changed when she was eleven. Her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer and for two years everything had focused on her mother and the disease. Kate had watched helplessly as nothing had worked, nothing had made things better, for her mother or her family.

She’d died when Kate was thirteen and from then on her family had no longer existed. She remembered one of their last moments together at the hospice. Her father had been sobbing and with what little energy she’d had her mother had stroked her hair and told her not to cry. And she hadn’t.

Without her, Kate had felt lost, but not as lost as her father had. Kate’s parents had been the loves of each other’s lives, and without her mother Kate’s dad had withdrawn from life and from his daughter. She had lost both parents, one to cancer and the other to depression, which as a thirteen-year-old she’d had no capacity to understand.

Kate’s memories of middle and high school were not normal ones, something she had realized but didn’t have time to care about. She spent those years trying to be the perfect daughter, student, homemaker, and friend to her dad, anything to make him happy, to make him come back to her. She hid every feeling of unhappiness and loneliness away, afraid that her pain would make her father worse and ruin what little they had together. She never discussed her mother and carried her grief alone. Every new womanly feeling or change she experienced she ignored, because it hurt too much to miss the mother she wanted to share those moments with.

Kate was terrified to graduate from high school, knowing that it meant she would have to leave home and her dad. It wasn’t until she arrived at Brown University and had some time on her own that she realized how different she was from the other students, especially the other girls. They all seemed so beautiful and confident and, next to them, she felt completely inadequate and unprepared for life as a woman. She went home every weekend, not just to see her dad but also to escape the weekend social gatherings where she felt so out of place.

This eventually became a comfortable routine that lasted three years, until one weekend she came home and her dad introduced her to Julia. Her father had found love again and for the first time since her mother’s death he was happy. Kate shared his happiness and at the same time felt her feelings of loneliness hit rock bottom.

Watching her father and Julia made her feel even more alone than she had before because they were together, a team, and she had no one. It was no longer necessary for her dad to be her focus in life, and she was now being forced to focus on herself and she didn’t even know who she was or who she wanted to be. All her anxieties and feelings of inadequacy battered her every solitary moment while she continued to play the role of the perfect daughter, stepdaughter and student. Her dedication towards a career in medicine was her only life raft in the storm in which she found herself.

She met Matt three months later and her world changed. She had been studying at her favorite coffeehouse when she glanced up and saw the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life. The glance had easily turned into an irresistible stare. He was tall and broad shouldered with thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was standing beside her table and it took her an embarrassing amount of time to acknowledge to herself that he was talking to her and to figure out what he had said. He asked to share her table, because it had an electrical outlet in the wall beside it for his laptop computer.

Previously, she would have just offered him the table, making some excuse as to why she needed to leave, but she was so drawn in by everything about him that she just managed to say yes and slide her own computer toward her to make space. He thanked her and while he started studying, her mind completely shifted, thinking only of him. He was perfection. His strong jaw was covered with a shadow of stubble that screamed masculinity to her. A gray T-shirt spanned his broad chest so that she could see the outline of every muscle group she had just been studying attentively in her textbook before he’d joined her. His shoulders led to muscular tanned arms and hands that were twice the size of hers. She could imagine the strength in his hands and what it would feel like to be held by him, to feel his jaw brush against hers, to press against his strong frame.

She started and blushed when his voice broke through her thoughts with an offer to buy her coffee. She barely managed to tell him her order without stammering, feeling completely stunned by the most outrageous thoughts she had ever had and insecure with her inexperience.

When he returned to the table with their drinks he didn’t reopen his computer. He introduced himself and she was drawn in by the kindness and genuine interest she saw in his eyes. There was something about Matt that had made her feel instantly safe, and with that feeling grew the confidence she had been lacking. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and Kate felt more important in those few hours than she had in years.

In the course of their conversation she learned about his long-distance girlfriend and on hearing that felt crushed and disappointed, but still intrigued by the man who already had someone special in his life and was still interested in her, even if she wasn’t girlfriend material. The more they talked the more she liked him and the more she wanted him in her life, no matter what he had to offer.

And that was exactly what followed. At first they would see each other casually, both studying. Matt was pre-law and she was pre-med, which meant they studied a lot. She got used to him joining her on Saturday and Sunday afternoons at the coffee shop, and even had the confidence to join his table when he arrived there first. The only time she didn’t see him was when he went back to New York for a weekend with his family and girlfriend, though he never talked about the visits and she didn’t ask. They eventually started meeting outside of the coffee shop and beyond studying, until they were together several times a week and spoke on the phone daily.

It was hard for her to understand her feelings. Matt was her first university friend, her first male friend, and eventually her best friend. She didn’t know how to sort out what she felt for him as her friend from what she assumed were normal feelings of attraction any woman would have in Matt’s presence. Part of her was actually relieved to be having the same thoughts and feelings about a man that she had heard other women talking about; it made her feel normal.

One Saturday she didn’t show up at the coffee shop, like she normally did. Even though they didn’t have formal plans to meet, Matt came to her apartment early that afternoon to check on her and see why she had been absent from the routine they had perfected over months. She hadn’t expected that. If she had she wouldn’t have answered the door. Instead she answered the door in jogging pants and an oversized sweater, her face red and swollen from hours of crying. He didn’t let her turn him away and on the eighth anniversary of her mother’s death Kate allowed her emotions to show and cried in front of someone else for the first time since her mother had died.

She couldn’t have asked for more in Matt’s response. He held her until her tears subsided and then listened as she talked about her parents and what she had lost. For the first time her feelings didn’t make her feel weak and helpless. Matt made her feel he understood in his responses and desire to listen. They talked for hours and he discussed his own father’s death, which helped her feel normal and less like the poor orphan she had perceived herself to be. When she was finally spent of emotions and words, she fell asleep on her couch, Matt still sitting at the end. She could remember the strength of his arms around her as he picked her up and carried her to her bed, the tenderness and caring as he laid her down and covered her, and the weight of his lips against her forehead as he kissed her good-night. And her last thought as she drifted to sleep was that she was in love with her best friend.

Kate woke to the darkness of the living room lit only by the soft glow of the end table lamp. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the lighting and the reality of her surroundings. She wasn’t in her old college apartment and the dreams she’d had of her past had been just that, dreams, followed by a harsh reality. She glanced over at the clock on the microwave—four o’clock in the morning. No hope of getting back to sleep, she thought.

She stretched; her neck had a kink in it from falling asleep on the arm of the couch and her legs ached from pushing too hard on her run, but she was also acutely aware of the deep ache and warmth in her pelvis. She could still feel the memory of Matt’s lips against her forehead, his body pressed against hers, and the feel of him wanting her, both past and present. It made no sense. She cringed, thinking about the last time she had felt that need from him and the disaster and complete and utter devastation she had felt afterwards.

Anger overtook her as her feet hit the cold wooden floor and she walked towards her bedroom. She didn’t want to remember every detail of their relationship and that night. She didn’t want to still feel what it was like to be touched by him. She didn’t want to still feel the pain of rejection and betrayal. She didn’t want to feel anything for Matt McKayne.

CHAPTER THREE

THIRTY HOURS INTO her shift Kate’s pager blared through her dictation as she described the detailed steps she had taken to resect the necrotic bowel and anastomose the viable segments. She paused in mid-sentence, her usual rhythm interrupted by the reminder tone that followed. She pressed the pager’s recall button and the hospital switchboard extension flashed back at her.

Dread filled her. She was between surgical cases and had two consultations in the emergency department to review. One more interruption and there would be no chance of getting to the washroom between cases. She had long ago given up the hope of eating any time soon and sleep was like a mirage in the desert to her.

She signed off the dictation and dialed the digits she knew by heart.

“It’s Dr. Spence from General Surgery. I have an outside call.”

“Yes, Dr. Spence, I’ll put him through.”

“Kate, it’s Matt, we need to talk.” She had been correct with her feeling of dread. Years ago those words would have changed her world, but now they left her with a sense of foreboding.

“Why are you calling me?” The question didn’t make sense as he had already stated his intentions, but it was the first thought that came to mind. Why? Why was he back?

He sighed and she sensed his impatience. Tough, she thought. “Kate, we need to discuss the details of the case, the sooner the better.”

The case, of course he wanted to talk about the case. How could she have forgotten the lawsuit? It was threatening to destroy her career and now was wreaking havoc on her personal life as well. She had received notification from the New York Medical Board that her medical license for the state was on hold and would not be granted until the lawsuit was resolved. No license meant no hospital privileges, which meant no fellowship for Kate. Everything she had worked for was now in Matt’s hands. Even with that in mind, she wasn’t ready to face Matt again. She couldn’t guarantee he would stick to the script of the present, and the past was too much to add to her fragile state of mind.

“I don’t have any spare time, Matt.” It was true.

“Make time, Kate, or I’ll make it for you.” It didn’t sound like a threat, more like a fact, and something she knew he was capable of following through on. If they lost the lawsuit she was going to find it next to impossible to find employment anywhere else and she couldn’t afford to burn her bridges with the hospital administration who had already warned her they expected her full co-operation.

“I’m not working this weekend.” She dragged the words from herself like a confession.

“Let’s meet Saturday afternoon. Do you have a preferred café you go to?”

No, she thought. There was no place she would prefer to meet with Matt. She needed to keep focused on what his new role was in her life, and the lawsuit. “We can use one of the hospital boardrooms.” She had perfected her professional veneer within the hospital and if she had any hope of maintaining it with Matt, it would be here at the hospital.

“I’ll see you Saturday at two. Goodbye, Kate.” Such a simple word, but it wasn’t goodbye.

Matt strode through the halls of Boston General on his way to meet Dr. Reed. Half of his attention was spent looking for Katie, Kate, the other half trying to decide whether he could truly represent Tate Reed. As a lawyer his job was to act in the best interests of his clients, but how could he do that for the man who had the one thing in life he wanted—Kate. One thing he did know, legally, if not personally, was that Tate and Kate were in this as a pair, and if he wanted to represent her then he had to agree to defend Tate Reed as well. And he needed to defend Kate.

Matt found the department of general surgery and made his way towards Tate’s office. Along the wall of the main corridor hung the yearly photographs of everyone who had been in the residency training program. Matt stopped and examined the last five years. Kate was in all the photos, each year changing just slightly, but enough that between the first and last photos she appeared to have become not only more beautiful but more confident and mature.

He moved to the closed door with Dr. Reed’s name on it and knocked louder than he’d intended. It also took longer than he expected before Dr. Reed opened the door. As he stepped into the office he was surprised to see a beautiful red-headed woman standing in the center of the room.

“Matt McKayne, this is Chloe Darcy. Chloe is in Emergency Medicine here at Boston General,” Tate said by way of introduction. “Chloe, Matt is a lawyer specializing in medical defense and has been hired by the hospital to represent Katherine and I in the lawsuit.”

Chloe looked at him appraisingly. “Nice to meet you.” She reached out and shook his hand. “Are you any good?”

Matt was surprised by the question and instantly liked her. “I’m very good, Dr. Darcy.”

“Call me Chloe, and I am very happy to hear that. The last thing Kate needs is for this to drag on.”

“You know Dr. Spence?” he asked, trying to sound professional while struggling to understand the network of relationships going on around him.

She smiled. “I know Kate probably better than anyone. I’ve been her best friend for the past nine years.”

So Chloe Darcy was Kate’s best friend and she knew her better than anyone, but apparently knew nothing about him. He assumed that because she showed no signs of hostility towards him. Tate, who, it seemed, had replaced him in Kate’s life, also didn’t seem to have any knowledge about their past together.

“Chloe, Matt and I have an appointment. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere,” Chloe stated flatly. Both men watched as she left the room, closing the door a little too forcefully for it to have been accidental.

“Have a seat.” Tate gestured to one of the two chairs opposite his large wooden desk and returned to his position behind the desk. He was taking charge and Matt let him. The more in control Tate felt the less likely he was to be defensive and hold things back from him. He had a lot of questions and not all of them were professional.

“I won’t waste your time or mine, Dr. Reed,” Matt opened, looking at him directly.

“I appreciate that. Call me Tate.” He returned the challenge in his gaze, and Matt grudgingly respected the man for not backing down.

“I have thoroughly reviewed the file, as have our medical experts. The unanimous opinion is that Mr. Weber’s condition was not survivable. He would not have survived even with immediate medical attention. My concern is that if this case goes to a jury they will not appropriately focus on that fact.” Matt waited for his reaction.

“What is it exactly you think will be distracting them?” Tate questioned, examining Matt as intently as he was being examined. Tate was trying to gauge what Matt did and did not know, and in that moment Matt knew he was right about the nature of the relationship between Tate and Kate.

“Your relationship with Kate Spence,” he responded and then in silence waited for the other man to give him the details he unwillingly craved.

“I don’t have a relationship with Katherine Spence,” Tate stated coldly.

Matt recognized the defensiveness in Tate’s tone and decided to change tactics before Tate completely shut down. “Why do you refer to her as Katherine when everyone seems to call her Kate?”

“Old habit, I guess. The rhyming of Kate and Tate is too nauseating. Either way, it won’t be an issue for much longer.”

“Why not?” Matt asked, still searching for answers and what Tate was not saying.

“Katherine, or Kate, will be moving to New York in the summer to start her fellowship in breast oncology and reconstruction.”

Matt processed the information. He remembered the afternoon he’d found her crying in her apartment. He had never before felt so helpless. It hadn’t been that he had never seen a woman cry—his mother and sister were known for their histrionics—but Kate had been crying from a genuine feeling of pain and not as a means of manipulation. Her career choice made perfect sense and he wondered if it was the one thing she needed to be able to finally make peace with her mother’s death. If it was, he wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way.

“Is there anything else you would like to tell me about you and Kate?” Matt asked directly, determined to find out the details of their relationship.

“No,” Tate snapped. This time Matt was sure there was something to tell.

“Tate, I’m going to be honest with you. With expert medical opinion on our side, the hospital has no intention of settling this lawsuit. Which means that the Webers’ attorneys are going to start digging, if they haven’t already. They are going to talk your friends, nurses, residents, your colleagues, anyone, in the hope of finding something seemingly improper in your and Kate’s actions that night. So if your goal is to protect your privacy, the best way to do that is to tell me exactly what your relationship with Kate Spence is and what happened that night. If you tell me the truth, I can find a way keep this out of court.” Matt seemed to have gotten somewhere with his direct attack, because Tate grimaced and leaned forward in his chair, his arms on his desk. Matt recognized the haunted look in his eyes.

“Katherine and I had been involved in a personal relationship. It ended six months ago,” Tate stated flatly. Surprising how a statement, which revealed next to nothing and contained what he already knew, still felt like a sucker punch. Once again his feelings towards Tate shifted. Any burgeoning thoughts of liking the man came to an abrupt end and he felt a masochistic need to know more.

“You are going to need to do better than that,” Matt replied, unable to keep his tone neutral.

“Fine. Katherine and I had been seeing each for a year and a half,” Tate answered, still barely budging on what Matt needed to know, more personally than professionally.

“Was it serious?” That was as close as he could get to asking if they had been lovers.

“For one of us.” Matt didn’t want to hear any more. He had made some very hard decisions years ago with regard to Kate. Decisions he had justified as being the best for her. Now to hear that instead of living the perfect life he had hoped for her, Kate had fallen in love with a man who hadn’t loved her back was a bitter pill to swallow. More so when he thought of the way she had reacted when the two men had been introduced; she still loved Tate even though he didn’t love her.

Matt studied the man sitting across from him, but then realized, to be honest; he had let Kate go too. So he wasn’t any better, despite his intentions. He then straightened in his chair and began a new resolve to remain professional and get through this meeting before he said or did something he would regret.

“Six months ago. So the time your relationship ended was the same time of Mr. Weber’s death? If the two events are linked, I need to know.” Matt noticed Tate’s attitude change from adversarial to sad; maybe the man realized what he had given up. Tate’s shoulders had fallen and he no longer looked at Matt. Time passed and Matt thought Tate wasn’t going to answer. Then he heard a deep breath and a less assured voice started.

“Kate and I broke up the same night Mr. Weber died. We saw each other earlier in the evening and later that same night she was called into the hospital to cover for one of the other senior surgery residents who had to leave with the transplant team. I was on second call for Vascular Surgery.”

“What was her state of mind?” Matt asked, his worry for Kate, even past Kate, taking precedence.

“I think you should ask her that,” Tate answered.

“I’m asking you. I need to know the impression she gave that night.”

“She had been surprised. She said she hadn’t seen it coming.” He was nodding, as if remembering the evening and confirming to himself how it had been.

“Then?” More and more this felt like watching a car accident in slow motion when you knew it was not going to end well but you couldn’t look away.

“She was the most upset I had ever seen her and she left.” Was that regret he heard in Tate’s voice? But before he could examine the thought further, Tate was continuing. “However, when I saw Katherine later in the operating room and throughout all of our medical interactions that night she was one hundred percent professional and composed.”

So Tate was going to back and defend Kate. That was going to make the case easier to defend, but Matt wondered about what was motivating the gesture. Was it professionalism, honesty, guilt from breaking off their relationship or part of a plan to win her back?

“Can you explain the time lag between her first attempt to contact you and the response?” Matt asked. Gone was any desire he had to continue this conversation. He actually wanted to leave and get away from the memories of Kate that were filling his mind. Kate with that look of shock and pain filling her eyes. Had she looked the same for Tate?

“Katherine had been surprised. I honestly don’t think She had expected anything that happened that night. After she left my loft and things started to sink in, she wanted to talk. She called and I told her there was nothing more to discuss. She called a few more times shortly after that and I ignored her calls. A few hours later when she called on my cellphone to discuss Mr. Weber, I didn’t realize her focus had shifted and I again ignored her attempts to talk to me. It wasn’t until the hospital operator contacted me and patched her through that I learned about Mr. Weber.”

“Does anyone else know the details of that night?”

“The only close friend Katherine confides in is Chloe Darcy.”

“So Chloe is a friend of both of yours?” Matt asked, trying to understand what role Chloe Darcy had played.

“I met Chloe through Katherine. We used to spend time together as part of a social group prior to the breakup.”

“And now?”

“She is Katherine’s best friend. Chloe and I have never talked about that night. I’m not sure what Katherine told her, but Chloe would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt Katherine, that I’m sure of.” Matt believed him. Chloe was obviously protective of Kate and he had instinctively liked and trusted her. At least Kate had one person in her life she could depend on.

“Do you think Kate has any reason to want to hurt you?” Matt pried.

“I don’t understand your question, Mr. McKayne.”

“Please, call me Matt. The other day Kate seemed very concerned about you and your well-being. Do you think she will vouch for your actions as clearly as you are for her?”

“Absolutely. Katherine is nothing if not honest. That night she told me she wanted desperately to be with me, to be in love with me, and I believed her. I don’t think any amount of time will change that.” He didn’t sound arrogant and that disheartened Matt much more than the statement had.

“I would appreciate it if, when you talk to her, you could spare her the same discussion we have just had. I think the only reason this situation has developed is that the hospital gossip mill put together the timing of our break-up and Mr. Weber’s death. We were both completely professional in our behavior that night and the hospital switchboard reached me within appropriate professional standards.” Tate was ending their conversation and stood from his chair.

Matt conceded and stood. He paused and studied Tate’s face, but the other man gave nothing away. The meeting had only generated more questions for him than answers. It had confirmed what he already knew, that Kate and Tate had been a couple. For a year and a half Tate had had Kate, and even though they had now broken up, he still had Kate. The fact that, after breaking up with her, Kate was still defending him spoke volumes about the type of man Tate was. He wanted to hate the man but couldn’t, despite the jealousy that was growing inside him.

The sane part of his mind also recognized that Kate still loved and trusted Tate, and Kate didn’t do either of those things easily. She was introverted and cautious, which made her actions towards Tate even more telling. What would happen when this was done? Would they find their way back to one another? Would Tate realize what he had given up and want her back? He needed to talk to Kate and he couldn’t wait one more day for his answers. The one thing Tate was definitely right about: Kate and Tate was a nauseating combo, and not just the rhyming names.

It took Kate another ten hours to complete her mental list of tasks. She had worked one of the hardest shifts in her career and she hadn’t cared. She’d wanted to work, to stay busy, to avoid everything, including her own thoughts.

After going to work an hour early the previous day at five a.m., she had worked through the day, the night and well into the next evening, and it was nine o’clock on Friday night before she was ready to finally leave the building. She was exhausted, and it actually felt a relief to have that as her primary state of mind.

She yawned as she pulled off her scrubs and pulled on the same jeans and fitted long-sleeved blue shirt she had arrived in the previous day. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and put her watch on. If she hurried she could force herself to eat something and be asleep by ten. If she slept well she might actually have the focus to study tomorrow and not think about her impending meeting with Matt.

Kate walked out of the women’s locker room and literally ran into Tate leaving the men’s change room. She bounced off his lean frame and had to grasp the wall for support. She didn’t realize whom she had hit and he looked equally surprised as she caught the moment when he recognized her. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly.

He reached out to steady her, grasping her forearms and holding her until she regained her balance and straightened. “Katherine. I heard you did well last night.” His tone was genuine, without the anger or hurt she had come to expect. She couldn’t disguise the surprise she felt. For the first time since that night, the tension between them was gone. He wasn’t the warm Tate she had loved, but this was better than it had been, and probably better than she deserved. She blushed, embarrassed by his kindness.

“Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me,” she replied shakily. Her exhaustion made it hard to control the feelings of relief and loss she associated with her new and old relationship with Tate.

“I spoke with our lawyer, Matt McKayne, today.”

No! her mind screamed as she reached out and grasped the wall for support. She studied his face and saw no signs that he knew about her past with Matt. He would be hurt and disgusted with her if he knew. It was sickening to think about the two men together. For different reasons, she hadn’t been good enough for either of them, and the thought of them discussing that fact was like a hot poker ripping through her chest. They had both been witness to her greatest inadequacies and she would rather die than have either man share their “Kate Spence” story.

“It’s okay, Katherine. I told him the truth. That you are a professional, competent surgeon and that nothing in your actions that night was negligent. He knew about us, though, and was asking the details of our relationship and breakup.”

She went from panic, to relief, to anger, to fear within seconds. Matt had no right to ask about her relationship with Tate. He really had no right to ask Tate about her at all. What questions would he have for her? “What did you tell him?” She gulped.

“As much of the truth as he needed to know, while protecting both of our personal lives and reputations.” She didn’t need to know more. Tate would keep the personal details of their breakup to himself, for his own sake as much as hers.

“Thank you.”

He stared at her, his thoughts hidden as he looked at her for an unknown answer. “Goodnight, Katherine. If it’s okay by you I think I’m going to use Kate from here on in, like everyone else.”

She smiled a little sadly. “I’m just happy you are planning to talk to me.”

“Good night, Kate.” The conversation was definitely over and Tate walked away. She wondered what had changed for him, but honestly didn’t care what the impetus had been for what felt like the forgiveness she didn’t deserve.

She walked through the halls of the hospital lost in her thoughts. The overhead fluorescent lights reflected off the linoleum floors as she made her way towards the glass-walled lobby. Her head felt as full as her body felt exhausted. She was grateful that she had put Matt off, even if it was only for a day. She paused at the entryway, threading her arms through the sleeves of her black wool jacket and slowly working the buttons closed to protect her from what appeared to be a cold spring night.

“Kate.” In what felt like slow motion she turned towards the voice she recognized. Matt was walking towards her. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a blue tie that matched his eyes perfectly. She felt her breath catch and a flush spread through her, her body recognizing his with appreciation. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the mess that had been tied back and stuffed under an operating-room cap all day, then stopped, catching herself in the action. It didn’t matter to Matt how she looked and she no longer cared what he thought, she reminded herself.

“Matt.” She forced his name out.

“We need to talk.”

He looked agitated. If you didn’t know him you wouldn’t be able to tell, but she had known him well and recognized the subtle force in his voice and his rigid posture.

“Yes, I believe we have a meeting for tomorrow at two.” She didn’t have the energy to play this game. Whatever Matt had come to say to her tonight, he needed to say it and let her go home.

“I met with Tate Reed today.” The statement reminded her of old legal dramas where the prosecutor baited his witness into revealing information without even asking a question.

“Yes, I know. I already talked to Tate. It appears he has already answered many of your questions about the circumstances behind the lawsuit, and other than that we have nothing to talk about.” She tried to sound like her professional, confident self and force out the exhaustion and pain that made her feel unprepared to deal with Matt. He needed to know her boundaries and now was as good a time as any to make it clear what was off-limits for discussion. He didn’t seem pleased with her answer.

“I don’t care about Tate Reed,” Matt said. Now he was definitely angry. Part of her told herself to walk away, that she wouldn’t win, not against Matt and not when she was this tired. Unfortunately, the same exhaustion allowed her emotions to take over.

“You seemed to care the other night. You also seemed to care enough when you talked to Tate and asked him questions that are none of your business,” she responded, matching his anger in her tone.

“Like it or not, Kate, you are my business.” Mistake. She had made a critical mistake in challenging him. Now they were on a path she didn’t want to be on. She didn’t want to talk about them, about their past, yet couldn’t hold back her reaction to his statement or the look in his eyes. He was looking at her with passion and the irony made her want to cry.

“It has never mattered what I thought or felt, has it?” She was done with being professional as she felt her personal pain seep through. She met his look and saw that she had wounded him, and it didn’t make her feel any better.

“That’s not true, Kate.” His hands were jammed in his pockets, his shoulders pulled back, his whole stance masculine and set.

She looked at Matt and briefly remembered the girl she had been and the man she had thought he was. For the second time that night she smiled sadly then regained control of the woman she had become. “I’m not going to do this, Matt.”

“Do what?” he asked, but she kept talking.

“I’m not going to talk about the past. It happened a long time ago and it doesn’t matter, I’ve moved on with my life, without you.”

“I don’t believe you.” And then he reached out and took her hand in his and held it hard. The touch was electric. Warmth spread through her whole body and she felt her heart start to race. She stared for a long time at his face, meshing in her mind the two versions of him. Old Matt and this Matt.

“Believe what you want, it doesn’t matter to me,” she sighed, pushing away the memories that statement brought forward. “Please, let go of my hand, I’m tired and I want to go home.” He didn’t look like he was going to let go, he just kept staring at her as if she was a puzzle he could figure out. “Please, Matt.”

He released her hand. “I’m parked out front. I’ll drive you home.”

“No, thank you.” She’d had about all the quality Matt time that she could handle and would rather walk the entire length of Boston than risk spending more time with him.

“Kate, if you don’t want a scene, just get in the car and let me drive you home.” It was a statement more than a threat, but coming from Matt it got her attention.

This was not the Matt she had known. She had never seen Matt lose control. He had always been calm and in control of everything, but not now. One look at his face told her to listen. His eyes were boring into her, his jaw was clenched, and she saw the small tremor that seemed to be traveling through his body. She looked around the lobby, the fluorescent lights creating an unnatural contrast to the darkness that seeped in through the glass wall from the outside. The atrium was still well populated with hospital staff, sufficient that if a scene did occur, she would be back as the number-one topic for the hospital gossips. That, combined with the look on Matt’s face, that said he just might do it, and her overwhelming fatigue forced her to give in. “Okay.”

She had lost the fight, and her resignation kept her from pulling away when he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out the hospital’s front entrance. His hand spanned almost the entire width of her back. Even through her coat and sweater she could still feel his warmth and the sense of protection she had always felt around Matt. She was surprised that feeling hadn’t vanished from its association with him.

A car door was being opened in front of her and she got in, barely registering the car’s luxury name and features. Once inside, she sank into the deep pocket of the leather seat. Matt got in the driver’s side and started the engine. The air from the heating system was like warm milk to her exhaustion. He reached over and turned on her seat warmer. She didn’t fight the strong urge to close her eyes, it seemed the better option to having to look at or make conversation with Matt.

She rolled over, her mind barely registering the soft pillow under her head. It wasn’t until she felt the friction of the sheet against her bare abdomen and the weight spanning her body that she realized something was wrong, very wrong. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. It was a high ceiling, white, crossed with dark wooden beams. She didn’t need to look to her side to know what she would find. She had always been able to sense his presence before she actually saw him.

How had she ended up here? She felt vulnerable; she was still incredibly tired, and couldn’t remember how she had ended up at what she knew must be Matt’s apartment. She moved again and processed that she was naked, apart from her bra and underwear. She flushed, both embarrassed and angry that Matt had taken it upon himself to undress her, that she had slept through it all, and, worst of all, that Matt had seen the dark purple lace thong and matching bra that had never been intended for anyone else’s eyes.

Anger became her dominant emotion as she turned to look at Matt, who was asleep on top of the blankets with one arm extended across her. That explained the weight. He was wearing a ragged university T-shirt and jeans and looked too much like the old Matt, her Matt. As if on cue, he opened his eyes, and a few inches away she saw the familiar blue eyes that looked softer than she had seen them since their reunion. Her heart fluttered and she forgot her anger.

He didn’t say anything, and she was too overwhelmed with memories of the past to tear her eyes from his, still trying to understand the man she’d once thought she knew. His eyes didn’t have the answers, only more questions that he seemed to have for her. She watched as he propped himself up on one arm and his other hand moved from her waist to the side of her face, his wide palm spanning her cheek, his fingers in her hair. His eyes changed then, darkening as his pupils widened and his mouth came down on hers.

It started as a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers. Then he pressed deeper and the pressure of his lips, the stubble brushing against her face, his hand pulling her towards him, was all-encompassing. She opened her mouth in shock and felt his tongue slip inside as he deepened the kiss. Instantly she was on fire, she could feel, smell, taste everything about him, and it inspired a passion that she hadn’t felt in so long. She felt alive. She felt like herself.

Her arms reached up to wrap around him, her sudden movement causing him to move on top of her and crush her. The weight of his body on hers heightened her desire; he felt incredible and she responded to his kiss, her tongue matching his with an increasing sense of urgency. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer and closer, desperately wanting to have no space, no air, nothing between them, nothing that could stop this feeling. She felt a sense of panic when she felt him lift himself from her slightly, but was rewarded when he pulled away the blankets that covered her and came back down on her.

Every part of her body yearned to be touched by him. Her breasts felt heavy and a steady throb pulsed between her thighs. She moved her hands down his wide shoulders and muscular back, feeling his hard muscles tremble in response. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and struggled to pull it over his head, until he sat up and removed the offending garment. She couldn’t stand to be separated from him even for that moment, and sat up to press herself against his kneeling form. He hauled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. She wrapped her arms around him again, feeling her breasts crush against his chest as much as they could within their constraint.

His hand swept her hair to one side as his mouth came down along the side of her neck. He licked, kissed and tasted the low part of her neck just above her collarbone and she arched her head back in response. She needed more, wanted more, wanted to ease the large ache that was growing inside her, and she moved her pelvis forward and ground into his. She was rewarded as his hard ridge pressed into her. Then she felt a new release as her bare breasts collided against his chest, her bra having been unfastened and pulled away. One hand closed over her breast, his thumb stroking the already erect and sensitized nipple.

The other hand grasped the bare bottom that her thong exposed, trapping her against him and echoing her need to push into him. It quickly became not enough, and he pulled away and bent his head to kiss her breasts, his tongue reaching her nipples, taking time to encircle and draw each into his mouth. She pulled open his jeans, the zipper falling from the pressure of him. Her hand reached in to touch him, and she felt him contract against her.

Two hands then grasped her hips and she was moved from her straddled position. She looked up in shock but the same heat that she felt was mirrored in his eyes. She watched as he removed his jeans and boxers, leaving just him. He was fully aroused and everything about him was masculine perfection. He rejoined her on the bed and gently pushed her onto her back against the pillows. She bent her knees and spread her legs, wanting him between.

His hands tangled in her hair as he returned to kissing her, the head of his shaft now rubbing against the damp purple lace between her legs. It was the best form of torture, one where you wanted to stop because the pleasure was too intense, but at the same time knew the release would be more than worth the progression, and that was what made it unforgettable. His hand skimmed her body and ventured towards her inner thighs. She felt the lace move slightly, as his finger caressed her crease and pushed inside. She knew she was wet, and even though the penetration was not the part of him she desperately wanted inside her, she still contracted her muscles around him, both for her satisfaction and to tempt him.

It worked, and for the first time since they had awoken, words were spoken. “Oh, God, Katie, I want you so badly,” he whispered against her cheek, breaking from their kiss.

His words, however softly spoken, had the opposite effect on her. Katie, she wasn’t Katie any more. Katie had been the foolish girl who had fallen in love with her best friend and had had her heart broken. Katie was the girl he had walked away from and ignored. The memory of that feeling was the only emotion powerful enough to break her from the path to ultimate fulfillment that she had been on. Instantly she felt vulnerable and weak, and very exposed, which technically she was. Her hands pressed against his chest and she shoved as hard as she could.

“Stop.”

He made eye contact with her, and she wasn’t sure what he saw, but he moved. She scrambled off the bed and headed for the nearest door, praying it was the bathroom.

She closed what thankfully was the bathroom door and pressed her back against it. The dark, empty room calmed her growing sense of panic as she gulped for air, trying to hold back her tears. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the city night’s light filtering through the frosted window. She was in Matt’s bathroom, virtually naked, only a door separating her and Matt. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t. She had completely lost control; she had almost lost herself in Matt. Again. Self-loathing rose up inside her. She knew better. If anything had come from their last time together, it had been the hard truth that in life the only person she could depend on was herself, and tonight she had let herself down.

Her hand found the light switch. She blinked rapidly at the brightness and studied the reflection looking back at her in the large bathroom mirror. Her hair was wild, her lips were swollen, her cheeks showed the marks of Matt’s five o’clock shadow, there was a faint mark on her left breast, and she was naked except for her purple thong. She shuddered, looking around the room for something to cover up with, needing to hide the evidence of her mistake. Her eyes fell on Matt’s robe. She hated it that that was her only viable option, but nothing else in the room would provide her the coverage she desperately wanted so it would have to do. The brown terry-towel robe smelled like Matt, but she blocked that from her mind, ran the cold water and splashed it on her face.

Now what? she thought to herself. Naked Matt was on the other side of the door, waiting, probably, for an explanation. He would be waiting a long time for that, because she couldn’t explain how tonight had started and had no intention of telling him why she had put an end to it.

It took another ten minutes before she was ready to leave the room, holding her breath as she opened the door. Folded up in the doorway were her clothes. Her eyes darted around the room. She saw the bed and the tangled sheets, but there was no sign of Matt. She took the clothes back into the bathroom, closed the door and dressed quickly, pulling her hair back with the extra hair tie she found in her jeans pocket. She took a final steadying breath, trying to summon the strength she was going to need to face him.

She found him in the living room, sitting on the couch, his attention fixed on the gas fireplace in the center of one of the walls. He looked up as soon as she came in. He too was fully dressed, not that it mattered as she could still see every contour of his naked body in her mind. It was a battle in her mind between the need to be with him, feel him against her, and the memories that told her to run as fast as she could and never look back. Before she could say anything he was walking towards her, reaching out with her coat and bag in his hand. He passed them over carefully so as not to touch her and gave the impression of not even wanting to be near her.

“I’ll drive you home.” He didn’t sound like himself, but she couldn’t figure out much beyond that. This was not the reaction she had expected, and while she was grateful not to have to replay the details of their encounter aloud, she was also hurt by his dismissal and couldn’t control the accusation in her eyes when she looked at him again.

He misunderstood the look. “I did drive you home earlier, but when we got to your apartment I couldn’t wake you up and couldn’t find your keys to carry you inside. So I brought you home so you could sleep here. That’s it; that’s all.” He sounded defensive and angry. Well, so was she.

“Thank you.” The words were terse. She put on her coat and snatched her bag from his outheld hand. He grabbed his own jacket and unlocked the apartment door.

They traveled in silence down the elevator, into the parking garage and during the entire car ride back to her apartment. At three in the morning traffic was minimal, so the drive was mercifully short. Normally silence like this would be uncomfortable, but she knew talking about what had just happened between them would take discomfort to a whole new level.

Her hand was on the door handle as he pulled up in front of her building and she had the car door open before the vehicle had even come to a full stop. She needed to get away from Matt, she needed time to figure out what tonight meant, if anything. Her foot was on the curb, half-out of the car, when she heard his voice.

“He’s not going to change his mind.” She would have missed the words if it had not been for the dead silence of the night.

It made her pause, settling her body back into the seat. She looked back at Matt, whose hands were still gripping the steering wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead, not looking at Kate. What was he talking about? She slumped further back into the passenger seat, too thrown by his statement not to voice the thought in her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Tate Reed.” By now he had turned to look at her, and she still didn’t understand. The mention of Tate, though, brought a comparison to mind. She hadn’t ever felt with Tate the way she had tonight with Matt. Never so out of control, never so desperate for release, so passionate.

“He doesn’t love you,” Matt stated, almost apologetically, like he was breaking bad news to a client.

It felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of another time long ago. Okay to have sex with but not worthy of love. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about what had almost happened between them tonight. It was no big deal for Matt, just as it hadn’t been the last time. She could feel a lump start to form in the back of her throat and focused her eyes into a hard glare in effort to control the tears of humiliation that were forming at the edges.

“No, he doesn’t love me any more. But he did love me and he still respects me and would never hurt me, which makes him a better man than you.” She had meant to hurt him, to wound him, to have him feel some of her pain, and when she looked over and saw that she had succeeded, it didn’t make her feel any better. What was she doing here with Matt? Wasn’t the definition of craziness repeating the same actions again and again and expecting a different result?

“I’m a complete fool,” she muttered to herself, and completed her departure by slamming the car door and not turning back to look at Matt, who remained parked outside as she entered her building. She was locked safely inside her apartment and lying in bed before she heard his car start up again and leave.

He sped through Boston’s underground tunnels too angry to return to the memories that now awaited him at home. He looked at his now-empty passenger seat, remembering her in it curled up, sleeping, looking no different than she had almost a decade ago. When he had lifted her out of the car and carried her to the apartment, she had curled her arms around him and he had remembered what it had felt like when she’d been his.

When she had woken up he had seen the same trusting eyes of the past and he had been unable to resist kissing her. He didn’t know what he’d meant by the kiss, he’d just felt a need to be closer to her, to regain the intimacy they had lost. The instant he had felt her lips, tasted her, he had lost all control. He shifted uncomfortably in the sports car seat, his erection returning painfully with the thought of Kate and her passionate response. The Kate he had been with tonight was not the same Katie he had known. The new Kate was no longer tentative. She had grabbed at him, moaned beneath him, had eagerly lain back and opened herself to him. Or so he had thought.

It had been a complete and sudden change, a moment of recognition. The moment she had heard his voice she had pushed him away and run. It had felt like a cold knife had stabbed him in the chest as he had felt the full impact of her rejection. He had wanted to go after her, to make her face him, but pride had held him back. He hadn’t wanted or needed to hear that the reason she had stopped was because he was not the man she wanted or loved. He hadn’t wanted to hear her reject him aloud, to tell him that she only wanted and loved Tate. That in her sleep-deprived state she had fantasized that he was Tate, right up until his voice had broken the illusion.

Her rejection tortured him. He never expected Kate to live a life of celibacy, but he had also deliberately chosen not to think about the alternative. Now he was faced with a reminder of the facts, what she looked like, what she felt like, how she would react and respond to the most intimate of touches, in essence how she would make love with the man she loved. And in acquiring that knowledge he was also faced with the fact that he was no longer that man.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE LOUD KNOCK brought Kate out of the darkness and forced her to open her eyes. She had been awake until six a.m., thinking about Matt, being torn between painful memories of the past and her body’s frustration at its lack of fulfillment. The knock came again and Kate grabbed her bathrobe and made her way to the door.

Chloe was standing on the other side, smiling, her hair down and straightened, her casual yoga pants and V-neck shirt nicely outlining her figure. She looked perfect, and Kate shuddered at the contrast to her own disheveled appearance. Chloe must also have recognized the difference because her smile quickly vanished and her green eyes began to evaluate Kate as she would a patient. “Oh, my God, I woke you up. Are you okay? Are you sick?”

It would be so easy just to agree and send her friend away, but Kate felt like she had lied, even if by omission, more in the past few days than she had in years, and she was tired of it. That wasn’t her; it wasn’t who she was. “No, Chloe, I am post-call and had a late night. Come in so I can stop standing in the doorway half-naked.”

Chloe stepped through into the small kitchen and perched on a stool at the kitchen bar. Kate shut the door and joined her, starting to make coffee. “It’s okay, I actually brought coffee for both of us, though by the looks of things you could use both.”

Kate smiled ruefully at the comment, wondering how she could have missed the tray and bag in Chloe’s hands but grateful to not have to make an effort and at the accuracy of Chloe’s assessment.

“I brought the coffee and muffins in case you wanted to study together; I didn’t think you would be post-call today,” Chloe said.

“I’m not technically post-call. I’m post-post-call, which is normally fine except that I didn’t get much sleep last night so it still feels like the day after.” Kate was normally very disciplined in her post-call routine—she needed to be or the fatigue would drag on for the entire week.

“Did you have an extender shift yesterday?” Chloe asked, obviously puzzled. Kate had worked as a physician extender after her first two years of residency had ended and she had passed her basic boards. The shifts involved her being on call and available for medical emergencies in various rehabilitation facilities and nursing homes. The shifts paid well and she had needed the money to help with the massive interest payments on her student loans. Kate had had to stop taking the shifts once she had become Chief Resident because of the added workload of her new role and needing to study for her final board exams.

Kate’s expression faltered at the immediate vision of Matt naked and pressed against her. She blinked, holding her eyes shut against the memory. When she opened them Chloe’s face had transitioned from surprise to disbelief.

She couldn’t face the look or the questions that were about to follow, so she turned and left the kitchen, moving to the soft yellow couch, curling her legs beneath her and covering herself with the throw blanket. Chloe read her friend correctly and said nothing as she moved to follow Kate, taking a place on the opposite end of the couch. She brought her offering with her, handing Kate a muffin and pressing a coffee into her other hand. Then to Kate’s surprise she didn’t say anything else. She just sat, and waited.

The silence was calming. It helped Kate regain her composure and gave her time to think as opposed to react. She absently picked at the muffin, thinking through the events of the last few days, and realized that Chloe was right, she did need to learn to talk about her feelings. She needed to tell someone, needed to say the words and thoughts in her head aloud before she went crazy, rethinking, reanalyzing, reliving the same moments over and over again.

“Have you ever been in love with someone when they didn’t love you back?” Kate asked, more as an explanation than a question. “When I was at university, completing my undergraduate degree, I fell in love with my best friend and in the end he didn’t love me back.”

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I don’t understand how that connects to now.”

“Tate and I broke up because he asked me to marry him. When I looked down and saw him on one knee, holding out an engagement ring, the first thought in my head was that it should have been Matt. And that was when I knew I didn’t love Tate in the same way, not enough to be his wife.”

“Oh.” Chloe’s face was beyond shocked. They had never talked about why she and Tate had ended, just that they had. She hadn’t told her about the proposal or about Matt or the role he had played. “Kate, that was months ago. What happened with Tate last night?”

“Nothing. We talked and it was nice. For the first time since we broke up I actually think he and I might be okay.”

“If nothing happened with Tate, why are you tired with what appears to be stubble burn on your cheek?” Chloe asked pointedly.

Kate felt heat rise through her as her hand reached up to touch the mentioned area, feeling the change in her sensitive skin. “That’s from Matt. He kissed me last night and for a few minutes I forgot about our past.”

“Are we talking about the same Matt? The Matt I met yesterday? The lawyer who was meeting with Tate to discuss the case?”

“Same Matt. As luck would have it, the hospital hired my old ex to defend my new ex and me. Horrible, isn’t it? The only two men I have ever been with in my entire life in a room together. I never told Tate about Matt. I didn’t want to hurt him any more than I already was, and I couldn’t explain how and why I still had feelings for the man who broke my heart.”

“Does Matt know about your relationship with Tate?”

“Yes, but how much I don’t know. He keeps making comments about Tate that I don’t understand.”

“Is he jealous?”

“No, of course not, he has no reason to be jealous. If he wanted me he could have had me, but he didn’t. He told me to my face that he didn’t love me and then walked away, back to his girlfriend, and never looked back. Jealousy implies wanting something someone else has, and Matt made it perfectly clear he didn’t want me.”

“If he doesn’t want you, how do you explain his marks on your body?”

“I can’t. Maybe he’s lonely and I’m convenient, again,” she sighed.

“That sounds really harsh, Kate.”

“No, what’s harsh is walking out on someone who maybe you didn’t love but at least should have cared about enough not to obliterate her existence from your life.”

“When did all that happen?”

“Right before medical school started. As you recall, I wasn’t exactly coping well with life when we first met.”

“Makes sense now. I wish you had told me then, though.”

“Talking about it would have made it worse. As it was, it took me a long time to realize that he wasn’t who I’d thought he was and we weren’t what I’d thought we were.”

“I’m sorry, Kate.”

“Me too.”

“Are you going to tell Tate about your past with Matt?” Chloe asked.

“No, it’s in the past and I refuse to give Matt any more importance in my life and humiliate myself again by explaining it all to Tate.”

“You’re being pretty hard on yourself over this, Kate,” Chloe said sympathetically.

Kate shook her head and stood from the couch. “I made a huge mistake with Matt and I refuse to risk ever repeating it.”

“So if you don’t have any feelings for this guy then what the hell happened last night?”

“Insanity and fatigue happened. I woke up and it was like how it used to be and for a moment it was the old Matt and the old Katie. But I guarantee you that will never happen again. I know too much about Matt. I’m not the naïve girl I once was. I have my own life now and I know that I don’t need him. Even better, seeing him again has helped cure me of any lingering images I had of the guy I once loved. I know for sure that he doesn’t exist and I can move on with my life.”

“Kate, I hate to point out the obvious, but you do need Matt. He’s your only hope for settling this lawsuit and getting your fellowship and career back on track.”

“I know. I guess that is one small bright side to this situation. I know Matt and some things never change. If there’s a way to win this case, he will. Matt is driven to succeed at all costs.”

“That doesn’t sound like the type of man you would fall for.”

“It’s not. The Matt I fell in love with was giving and kind. It just happens that that part of him wasn’t as important to him as it was to me.”

Matt walked back into the hospital the following day for his meeting with Kate, and for the first time in his career he felt completely unprepared. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. He didn’t know how he would react to her, or her to him, if she would even show up after their night together.

He walked into the boardroom five minutes before their scheduled meeting and was surprised to see her already seated at the table. She was reading from a large textbook, her hands tangled up in her long brown hair. She stopped reading the moment he entered the room, her eyes rising to stare up at him.

It reminded him of their past. She had been sitting exactly the same way the first time he’d seen her. She had easily been the most beautiful woman in the café but, compared to almost all the other women he’d known, she hadn’t seemed to notice or try to use it to her advantage. He had seen her in the same spot every time he’d gone to the café, until one afternoon he could no longer resist the temptation she’d presented.

Within a few hours of talking to Kate he’d known that his instincts had been dead on. She had not been like any other woman he had ever met. Matt had never been without a woman from a young age. His appearance, confidence and social status had been enough to ensure a willing and ready woman on his arm and in his bed. The fact that he’d had such a woman already in his life had not been enough to keep him from exploring Kate.

Soon she had become his favorite person, his best friend, and Matt had liked himself most when he’d been around her. He would sometimes stand back across the coffeehouse and just watch her. The intense look of concentration on her face, the way she would abstractedly run her fingers through her hair, and then she would look up and see him and smile. She had made him feel welcome and like he belonged. But that had been then, and today Kate was not smiling.

He took the seat opposite her across the table. He needed to remind himself that his purpose was the lawsuit and sitting too close to her was a distraction from that purpose.

“My firm has acquired and reviewed all the documents related to the case. There are a few depositions we need to talk about.”

“Your firm?” she asked, the question holding more censure that he’d expected from her. She was still angry and he needed to do his best to calm her down if they were ever going to be able to discuss the case in a constructive manner.

“I’m a partner at my grandfather’s law firm. I started and head up the medical defense division.”

The McKayne family was rich and powerful and known for their prominent presence in the New York legal community. His grandfather had founded a law firm decades earlier that had grown to be one of the best, making his family very wealthy. Matt’s father had been in line to succeed his grandfather until he’d died suddenly of a heart attack when Matt had been four, leaving the family’s dynasty and future firmly on Matt’s shoulders. Matt often wondered how different his life would have been if his father had lived.

The medical defense division was his creation and he was involved in every aspect of its operation. He represented clients but also oversaw the operations of all the firm’s satellite offices, which was how he’d ended up back in Kate’s life.

He had been reading the monthly client reports at home one evening when he’d seen her name. A combination of fear and desire had broken through his whole body. He’d called the Boston lawyer assigned to the case and confirmed it was his Katie being described. Without hesitation he’d released the other lawyer from the case and arranged to handle it personally. He had never once considered the ramifications of their reunion.

“Did you pick this case because of me?” she asked, her shrewd intelligence piecing together what he wasn’t saying.

“Yes.” He knew better than to lie to her but also wasn’t willing to offer her any more of an explanation for his actions.

Matt had been raised to be responsible, with the high expectations and demands of his family behind his every decision and action. He hadn’t realized he resented it or what a heavy burden it was until he’d met Kate.

She’d never asked him for anything and in return she had been the first person in his life that Matt had wanted to do things for, simply to make her happy, to make her smile. This was in stark contrast to his family, who had been blatant and demanding in their needs, wants and expectations. Kate had got more joy out of simple things than Matt had known was possible. Remembering how she took her coffee or asking about how her exam went had seemed to mean the world to her, and had been a far cry from the over-the-top and lavish gestures his family had expected.

He had been the best version of himself during his time with her. It hadn’t been anything she had done or said, it had been all the things she hadn’t done that had made him feel a sense of freedom and a willingness to give of himself that he had never experienced. She’d had no expectations or demands of him and had never pushed for more than he’d offered.

It was that part of Kate that was driving his need to personally defend her, not his guilt, he told himself. She seemed to take in his answer, an internal debate apparent in the emotions that crossed her face before she let the matter drop.

He took her cue and refocused on the case. “Kate, I want you to think back to that night and the interactions you had with Mr. Weber and his family. Can you think of anything you said or did that would make the Webers believe there was negligence involved in his death?”

She was silent across the table, but her nonverbal cues made up for the lack of words. She tangled her hair into a knot, pulling it from her face as her perfect posture slouched in defeat. “Yes.”

“What happened?” He knew the answer. He rarely asked a question without knowing the answer but he needed to hear it from her, even though he knew it would kill her to say it.

“I cried.” No emotion was in her words, just a statement of fact. But the look on her face told a different story.

“When did you cry, Kate?” Memories of the two times he had ever seen Kate cry revolved in his mind. Both instances had been extreme, when she had been pushed to her limit.

“When I was talking to Mrs. Weber after her husband died.” Still no elaboration. He hated this. Hated that his job was to force her to discuss something she had no desire to share with him. It went against everything they had once been.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened.” She stared at him and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Minutes went by and he started to worry she would refuse him. Not for the first time he reconsidered whether he should be representing Kate, or whether the past between them was too much to overcome.

Finally she sighed, obviously resigning herself to the situation. “After Mr. Weber died, Tate, as the attending surgeon, went to talk to Mrs. Weber to disclose his death. When he was done I joined her in the operating room’s family room. I had met her earlier in the night and felt compelled to see her. She already knew her husband was dead and was crying alone in the room when I got there. When she saw me she reached for me and I let her embrace me, and she didn’t let go. The more she cried, the harder she held me. Eventually I started to cry too and I told her I was sorry.”

“What were you sorry for, Kate?”

“I was sorry that she had lost the love of her life. That she was going to have to go on by herself and try to make a life without the one person she was meant to be with.”

“Do you think it’s possible that she misinterpreted your empathy as guilt?”

“Given that we are talking about it, I would say yes, wouldn’t you?” Her derision was very clearly focused on herself, despite the sarcasm in her response.

Yes, he would. Kate crying and saying she was sorry would definitely raise suspicions when reflected on after the fact.

“Are there any other patients, nurses, or colleagues that would speak for a pattern of behavior? That you frequently empathize with your patients and their emotions?”

“No. That was the first and only time I have lost my composure at work.”

“Is there anyone else in your life who can testify to your emotional nature?” He was reaching, looking for some way to get her out of a situation that now seemed partially her own making.

Her face changed. Gone was the steely armor and replacing it was the same softness he recognized from the past. “You.”

“Me what, Kate?”

“You are the only person who has ever seen me cry.” Her words were a painful confession, but the information was just the opposite. It highlighted to him what he had always known. They had been something different, something special, something he should have held onto at all costs. He couldn’t let those thoughts take over; he needed to keep his focus. He knew bringing up the past would be a sure way to make Kate retreat and he wasn’t willing to lose another minute with the real her.

“What was different about that night?”

“I’m not sure.” She raked her hand back through her hair and looked down at the table as if she would find the answer she was looking for in the grain of the wood. “She really loved him and he loved her. I saw it between them in the emergency department, true love. Then within hours it was gone and I couldn’t put together what would happen next. She was so lost without him already and all I could remember was what it felt like to lose the person you love. I remembered that feeling and knew that my love and pain were only a tenth of what she was experiencing, and I didn’t know how to help her.”

The most remarkable woman he had ever met looked defeated and it was enough to break his resolve. He didn’t stop to question whether she was referring to her mother, him, or Tate Reed in her memories of pain and loss. He rose from his chair and crossed around to her, the drive to hold her in his arms breaking through his common sense. She looked up as he drew her up from her chair, her lips parting in shock. He didn’t mean to kiss her, his intent, brief as it had been, had been to comfort and hold her, but one look into the depths of her eyes and the sweet fullness of her lips was enough to change his mind.

It was an experience in contrasts. The softness of her lips to the hardness of his mouth; the surprise in her reaction to the deliberate intent that drove him; the sweetness within her to the ruthlessness of the man he had become. She didn’t pull away and the small surrender drove him harder. He explored her, reminding his mind and body of the places he had once been and had never forgotten. His tongue teased hers while his hands roamed her body in his embrace. Her hands clung to him, grabbing handfuls of the fabric of his shirt until the moment was broken and he felt her step back from the kiss and push him away.

She was staring at him, her eyes wide. “You want me.”

His arms were still holding her and he was unwilling to let her move further away. He also wanted to make it clear to her who she was with and who was responsible for the dilation of her pupils, her parted moist lips, and the points of her nipples, which were pressing against the fabric of her long-sleeved cotton shirt.

“Why?” she whispered, the word coming at the end of a gasp to find her breath.

“Why what?” His brain had been robbed of its blood supply and his ability to comprehend her question was inhibited by the physical desire he was struggling to restrain.

“Why are you really back?” It was the question that had been in the background of their every interaction and had remained unasked and unanswered between them.

“Code Orange. Code Orange, Emergency Department. All available personnel.” The hospital intercom sounded within the room, the intrusion startling both of them. His arms dropped and she moved away. He had no idea what the announcement meant, but as he watched her face change from the intimacy of her question to immediate business, he realized it was serious.

“That’s a mass casualty code. I need to go.” She went back to her spot at the table, shoved her textbook into her shoulder bag and then left without another look at him.

He was torn between anger at the interruption and relief that he didn’t have to answer the question he didn’t have an answer for.

He knew why he had left her but had no explanation for why he was back. He paced around the room, the motion helping him to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he had thought it through. It was an argument he had had over and over again, and never once had he come to a different conclusion. Kate was special. She was beautiful, selfless, and genuine in her feelings and actions. She was everything he wanted and he had loved her enough to let her go before his world ruined her and robbed her of everything that made her the woman he loved.

Why was he back? He had asked himself a thousand times since coming to Boston. Why, after nine years of being apart, had he finally given in to the temptation to return to her? It wasn’t that he had forgotten her. In the beginning it had taken every ounce of his willpower to break away from her. When she’d called and emailed he had forced himself to erase the messages before listening to or reading her words.

He had begun filling his life with women and alcohol, neither providing any comfort. For a time he’d actually thought he was losing his mind, because out of the corner of his eye he would think that he saw her across campus or heard her voice in a crowd. One afternoon he had walked into a campus coffeehouse and seen a woman that could have been her. The long brown hair, the way she had been bent over a textbook, intensely concentrating, reminding him so much of Katie that when she had started to look up he’d had to turn and leave. He had been unable to face the crushing disappointment that would have come when he discovered it was not her.

After that he realized he needed something in his life that reminded him of her without being with her. That was when he discovered medical defense law. It brought out the best in him, just as Kate had. The ability to defend and protect physicians who dedicated their lives to caring for others brought a purpose to his life that he desperately needed. It was also the first step in breaking free of his family’s self-serving dysfunction.

After finishing law school, it had been understood that he would join the firm and he did, but with one condition—he wanted to specialize in medical defense. When faced with the prospect of having his grandson work for another law firm, his grandfather relented and let him start a separate division for medical defense within the family firm. Matt was the best at everything he did, but as a medical defense lawyer he excelled. Within two years the firm’s value had tripled and Matt was made a partner. By twenty-eight, Matt was a millionaire, having channeled his share of the firm’s profits into successful investments.

Despite being born into privilege, Matt became a self-made man, and with that came insight into the family dynamic that had dominated his life. He loved his family, but that feeling was marred by the sense of responsibility he felt toward them and disdain for their way of life. They judged and treated people entirely according to wealth and background with no regard for true character. They would have eaten the old Katie alive, and Matt knew that, despite his best efforts to protect her, his family’s resentment of who she was and her position of importance in Matt’s life would have slowly eroded her spirit and the small amount of self-confidence she had.

But now things were different. New money was no longer vulgar, not when Matt had accumulated more wealth than the rest of his family combined. He had also learned to draw some hard lines surrounding his personal life and they no longer dared to interfere in his relationships or other choices.

If his ability to control his family was the reason he was back in Kate’s life, he would have found her years ago. He could more easily explain why he’d stayed away than why he’d returned. He’d stayed away out of guilt. No matter how noble his reasons had been for ending their relationship, he had done it horribly, his mind reacting instead of thinking.

To avoid her sacrificing who she was and wanted to be for him, he had sacrificed his own character. He had stayed away because after all these years He knew he couldn’t offer her what they had once had—trust. If she asked him again why he was back, he would be honest. He was back because she needed him and after nine years apart he finally had something to offer her, and he wasn’t going to let her refuse.

CHAPTER FIVE

KATE REACHED THE emergency department within minutes of hearing the overhead call for help. A code orange was one of the most rare codes and in her entire career she had never heard one called. A code blue was called when a patient stopped breathing. A code red when there was a fire in the hospital. A code orange was reserved for when some sort of disaster occurred and the emergency department was overwhelmed and unable to cope with the patient load.

She wasn’t working, she wasn’t even supposed to be in the building, but that didn’t matter. She had been trained to care for the sick and no office hours applied to that duty.

She threw her bag into the locker room, exchanging her shirt for a scrub top, not so much to protect herself but more to identify her in the sea of people that would be filling the department.

She walked to the trauma bay, coming alongside Chloe and her attending physician, Dr. Ryan Callum. They showed no surprise at her arrival.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her eyes darting around the department, evaluating.

“Multiple vehicle collision in the tunnel, including a city bus, with an unknown number of casualties. The Boston fire department and medics have been on scene for at least fifteen minutes but they are having trouble extracting some of the passengers. We are the closest and the first-response site for all trauma cases, with County and other surrounding hospitals as overflow.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“The operating room has been notified and all nonurgent cases are on hold until we evaluate how much surgical trauma there is. Chloe and the other emergency residents are going to triage the victims according to their injury severity score. If you could be on hand for the critical and severe patients and work with the trauma team to decide who goes to the operating room and in what order, that would help immensely.” He didn’t elaborate further as the team poured into the ambulance bay to meet the first arriving victims.

Within an hour, fifteen patients had been classified with severe and critical codes. Kate mentally ordered the surgical cases for the operating room, taking into account both the severity of their injuries and their readiness for the operating room. She picked up the phone and asked to be put through to the attending surgeon responsible for the trauma team.

“Jonathan Carter,” the surgeon answered, obviously waiting for this call.

“It’s Kate Spence. I have seen the critical and severe tracked patients from the tunnel accident. Nine are presenting as clear surgical cases and four need to go immediately. There is an obstructed airway, a rib fracture with flail chest, a compound femur fracture, and a penetrating trauma to the abdomen.”

“The operating room has four rooms available with nursing and anesthesia. Orthopedics has a team in place and can start with the femur and work through the orthopedics cases. I’m here and so is Dr. Reed, but we don’t have a third surgeon in-house on a Saturday and the nearest person is one hour away because of the tunnel closure.”

“Are you asking me which two of the three non-orthopedic cases we should take first?” she asked, knowing the wrong choice could lead to a patient’s death.

“No, I’m telling you that you are taking the penetrating abdominal wound to the OR without an attending surgeon.”

Her train of thought changed from patient triage to shock. She didn’t need him to repeat himself; he had been clear and his words were echoing in her mind.

“Dr. Spence, you are three months away from being a board qualified surgeon. I’ve worked with you, Dr. Reed has worked with you, and we both agree that you are more than capable of acting alone. The patient is better served with you now than waiting around for someone else.”

“Thank you.” She felt humbled and terrified and neither emotion was she going to allow to show in her voice.

“Don’t thank me. You’ve earned this. I’ve already notified the operating room that you will be doing the case solo. They are just waiting for the patient details and then will send for the patient immediately.”

The team moved quickly. She made the necessary call and then went upstairs to change into her surgical attire. Within ten minutes the patient was on the table, being anesthetized. She moved to the left-hand side of the table and waited for the signal from the anesthetist to start. She could hear the monitors firing, her patient’s heart rate racing, just as hers was. She knew she could do it. Knew they wouldn’t have let her if she couldn’t. But there was something about being the most qualified person in the room, with no one to help her if she got in over her head, that was terrifying.

She needed to set the tone. Everyone in the room was on edge because of the severity of the situation. The only way to bring people down was to lead by example, to stay calm. She could do that. She held out her gloved hand. “Knife.”

She worked meticulously, creating an incision extending from either side of the metal shard that was plunged into the center of the man’s abdomen. She couldn’t just pull it out, she needed the shard in place to act as a tamponade for the bleeding until she could identify which organs and vessels had been damaged. She worked through the layers of the abdominal wall until she was able to place a retractor to hold open the wound and give her the complete visualization she needed.

Damn, she thought to herself. The metal was extending into the transverse colon and the abdomen was completely contaminated, placing the patient at high risk for postoperative infection. Thankfully, the shard had stopped before reaching the aorta, which lay two centimeters below the tip.

Typically this was when her attending would ask her what she wanted to do. Did she want to repair the bowel or remove a segment of the damaged bowel, and if she chose the latter, did she want to do a primary or secondary repair? She knew the answer, but this was thefirst time she was taking one hundred percent ownership of the decision.

She called out to the circulating nurse and requested the necessary staplers and devices. Within an hour she was sitting in the recovery room with her patient, completing her postoperative orders and dictation.

Her emotions were mixed. On one hand she was proud of her surgical accomplishment; on the other, she felt for her patient, who still had a long road ahead of him to full recovery.

The automatic doors swung open and Dr. Carter walked in alongside the stretcher on which his patient was being transferred to the recovery room. He approached Kate, and she prepared to defend her decision to resect the bowel with delayed anastomosis.

“Dr. Shepherd has just arrived and is going to take over the third room until things are clear. Thank you for your help today. Your patient has been formally admitted under my care, but you should consider him yours until he goes home.”

“Thank you again.”

“Don’t thank me. You proved yourself long ago.”

She retraced her steps through the hospital, collecting her belongings from the various locations she had been. She had never questioned her decision to become a surgeon but in that moment she had never been more certain that she had made the right choice. She felt like the doctor and woman she wanted to be, confident and in control, and it was time for her to take control of all aspects of her life.

She dug through her bag in search of her phone and the business card the hospital’s lawyer, Jeff Sutherland, had left her after the initial meeting. She dialed the number and waited as it rang.

“McKayne.”

“It’s Kate. We need to talk.” It was the understatement of the year, but what she needed to say she needed to say in person. She wasn’t going to take the easy way out over the phone.

“I won’t dispute that.” His assuredness irritated her and she tried to stay on track.

“Where are you now?”

“I’m at my apartment—do you need the address?” Yes, she would need the address. Leaving a man’s apartment at three in the morning after an unexpected sexual encounter did not typically lend itself to remembering logistics, but it did remind her of the dangers of entering a lion’s den.

“No. I mean I don’t need the address because I’m not coming over. Can you meet me at Gathering Grounds on Beacon Street?” She held her breath, waiting for his response.

“I can probably be there in about an hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” She pushed the off button, not wanting to prolong the conversation. She needed to keep every ounce of the confidence she had gained this afternoon for when she met Matt.

Almost exactly an hour later Matt entered the coffee shop. She knew he was there the moment he walked through the door, and she watched him get a coffee and then join her at her table.

“We need to speak quietly while we’re talking about the case.”

“I don’t want to talk about the case,” she said, still quietly, her personal life just as confidential to her as the details of the lawsuit.

“Okay, so what do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“You said you didn’t want to discuss the past.”

“I don’t. I want to make things clear now.”

“Kate, nothing is more clear. You want me and I want you.”

He was right. She wouldn’t deny it. How could she when he had witnessed her response to him? Even as he spoke the words her body flushed with the memory of him. She swallowed hard and forced herself to remain focused. “That doesn’t matter.”

“How can it not matter that every time we touch, neither of us can keep control?”

“Because I can keep control, Matt. I don’t know you, I never did. But I remember what it feels like to be hurt by you and those memories are way stronger than any physical attraction that still lingers between us.”

His face, which had been heated describing the passion between them, cooled, and she faced a steely expression before he spoke. “Do you want a different lawyer?”

“No. You need to fix this for me, because I know you can. But while you are doing that I want you to forget everything else that is between us. The only relationship we have is of lawyer and client.”

“The attraction between us isn’t going away, Kate, no matter how hard you try to control it or tell me to ignore it.”

“But you are, Matt. When this case is done you are going to move on back to your high-society life and you’ll forget that I ever existed.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“You can, Matt, and you have. You just need to do it again.”

Kate spent the remainder of the weekend trying to get caught up with life. Her work schedule made even basic life tasks seem like monumental challenges. Cleaning her apartment, doing laundry, shopping for groceries, and sorting her mail were all luxuries saved up for a rare day off. Her student-loan statement was a grim reminder of the ruin she faced if they lost the case. She had no way to pay back that amount of debt, not to mention the money she owed her father, unless she was employed as a surgeon, and that was dependent on the case. Not to mention the pain of losing her chance to devote her career to women with breast cancer, women like her mother.

She moved through the apartment, trying to restore the same order to her home life as she had her personal life, and eventually she felt more herself than she had since Matt’s return. She had done it. She had taken the steps she needed to protect herself and her heart. She would never let him hurt her again, because if she did she knew she wouldn’t survive it.

Her sense of peace remained with her until Monday afternoon. Matt’s office called and scheduled a meeting for Thursday. The receptionist didn’t provide any details about why they were meeting. She could only assume it was to continue the conversation that had been cut short on the weekend. Two feelings filled her and neither was welcome. One was a sense of dread at having to relive the night of Mr. Weber’s death and her time with Mrs. Weber. The other was hurt that Matt hadn’t called her himself. The latter she resented deeply, despite it being what she wanted: lawyer and client, nothing more.

She operated all day Tuesday and took a call shift on Wednesday in order to be able to leave early for the meeting on Thursday afternoon. By that time her sense of peace had long left her. It was just fatigue, she lied to herself. That was why she felt so on edge about meeting Matt, because she was in control and had every intention of staying that way.

“Kate, are you okay?” Tate’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she made her way through the hospital atrium towards the building’s exit. It was jarring to hear his voice when she was thinking about Matt. She looked up to find him walking beside her, and she hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m sorry, Tate, what did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

She wasn’t going to lie to Tate. “No, but I am going to be,” she said, with enough conviction to convince both of them.

“So where are you headed?” she asked as they left the hospital, his early departure as uncharacteristic as her own.

“I’m guessing the same place you are, to a meeting with Matt McKayne.”

She shook her head from side to side, the momentary lightness now gone. Who was she kidding? The only person in control was Matt. He had always been in control, it was one of the things that had drawn her to him, but now she was terrified. If he was in control then she wasn’t, and the small whisper of doubt she had over her ability to keep her emotional distance from him blossomed into fear.

“I don’t think you have to worry about the lawsuit interfering with your fellowship. McKayne seems to know what he is doing.”

Tate had assumed her anxiety was related to the lawsuit. She should have felt relieved at his assumption but instead she felt insulted. It felt like Tate was choosing Matt over her and it hurt. She couldn’t help her bitter response. “Looks can be deceiving, Tate.”

“You don’t trust him,” Tate replied, more as a statement than a question. Kate was glad they were walking, wanting to hide her face and blame her expression on the feel of the cold spring chill on her face.

“You do?” she countered, unwilling to divulge any information about whether or not she trusted Matt, because truthfully she still didn’t know herself.

“Yes, I do. I am not sure what it is about him. He’s arrogant and he likes to be in charge, but I can tell it comes from a driving need to succeed and do his job well. He probably should have been a surgeon.”

“Ha,” Kate scoffed, thinking about how Matt’s family would have taken a departure from the legal profession.

“What is it you don’t like about him?” Tate asked.

He broke my heart and abandoned me, Kate said inside her head. Out loud she simply said, “I think we are here.”

They walked into the lobby of the downtown high-rise and took the elevator to the top floor. Tate walked to the receptionist’s desk to check in while Kate took in her surroundings. Matt had done well if the office was anything to go by. There were floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the water. The office reception area was beautifully furnished with comfortable seating and a granite coffee bar. Tate handed her a warm mug. “I thought maybe you should avoid any more caffeine. It’s lemon tea.”

Kate looked down and noticed the small tremor in her hand that Tate had already taken note of. “Thanks.”

“Dr. Spence and Dr. Reed.”

She looked up and saw a middle-aged woman looking at her expectantly. Tate rose with Kate and they followed the woman through the open office area towards a corner office. “Mr. McKayne, Dr. Spence and Dr. Reed.”

They walked into the office and sat in the two large leather chairs across from Matt’s desk. Once seated, Kate took her first real glance at Matt. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with a blue shirt and steel-gray tie that matched the cold look in his eyes. His jaw was clean-shaven and clenched. She couldn’t read him and that bothered her on multiple levels.

“You went to Brown?” Kate turned to look at Tate, who was looking past Matt at his framed degree hanging on the wall behind the desk.

“Yes, I did my undergraduate degree there, before going to Columbia Law.” She was watching Matt intently, waiting for him to change the focus and start discussing the case, but instead he was staring at Tate like she wasn’t even in the room. He wouldn’t, there was no way he would.

“Tate, as your lawyer, I need to disclose to you a potential conflict of interest I have in regard to this case.”

“Go ahead, I’m listening.”

Kate tried to speak, to stop Matt from saying whatever he was going to say, but no words came out.

“Kate and I knew each other during our undergraduate degree at Brown. We were lovers.”

Everything was slipping away. She couldn’t focus. Not on Matt, not on Tate, not even on her own thoughts and feelings that were racing through her. Cruel. This was cruel to her and to Tate. After what seemed like an eternity Tate’s voice broke the silence.

“I would have appreciated that information much earlier. From Kate,” Tate said in a monotone, turning his head towards her as he spoke. It was the same look he had worn the night they had broken up, one of shock and disappointment. She wouldn’t look away, he deserved her attention, but maintaining eye contact did nothing to assuage her feelings of helplessness and shame. He was right: he had deserved the truth from her.

“Tate, I can explain,” she said, knowing nothing was going to make this better. She had already destroyed their relationship once, and just when they were finally getting back on track with being the friends they always should have just been, she had lied to him and allowed him to be made a fool of in front of Matt.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Kate. Your sexual relationships are no longer relevant to me, but I thought we were going to be honest with each other from here on in. I guess I was wrong.” He rose from the chair and turned, focusing his attention on Matt.

“Matt, at this point there is only one thing I want from you. I want this case and my connection to Kate over.” Then he walked out of the room, and the sound of the door slamming behind her made her jump.

“Kate, I had to tell him,” she heard Matt saying from across the desk with an air of authority and conviction that she didn’t appreciate. His tone only helped to fuel the deep sense of hurt that had been close to the surface since their reunion and now was ready to boil over.

“You have to do a lot of things, Matt. You have to be the perfect son, the perfect grandson, and now the perfect lawyer. But what you really are is the perfect coward, taking the easy way out, hiding behind all the grandiose responsibilities of your perfect, rich, high-society life, ignoring the real things in life you have to be responsible for.”

“What are you talking about, Kate?” He hadn’t yelled, but he might have, to look at him. Still, the look of Matt, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the arms of his chair was not enough to stop the words that she had screamed in her head for years.

“That’s just it, Matt, you are so screwed up that you still haven’t bothered to figure out what is really important to you.”

“And Tate Reed? That is who’s important to you these days, is it, Kate?” He had left his chair, his hands bracing his body as he leaned across the desk towards her. Even though they were still feet apart, she felt him, his anger, his fire, and she drew back in her chair, pressing herself into the back of it.

“Yes, Matt. My friends are important to me and they deserve to be treated far better than what Tate got today.”

“You don’t think Tate deserved to know we were lovers?” His words were sarcastic, and everything about him reminded her of a hunter about to go in for his final attack, but she wasn’t about to concede to him now.

“We were never lovers, Matt. You never loved me. You may not remember that, but I do.”

She stood from the chair and was happy that she had kept her coat with her, feeling more than ready to leave this conversation and Matt’s office. She had turned towards the door when she felt Matt grab her hand and spin her back towards him.

“Kate, don’t go, we’re not done,” he ordered.

Grief tore through her and settled low in her stomach. “I didn’t go, Matt, you did. I trusted you once and I was wrong, and I have had to live with that. But we are done, Matt. You decided that years ago.” She backed away and he let her go.

She walked into the dimly lit establishment that was filled with the rich smell of wood and the sound of fiddle music playing in the background. Her eyes scanned the room until she found what she was looking for.

She went to the bar, ordered two eighteen-year-old single malt Scotches, and walked over to Tate’s booth, sliding in on the leather padded bench opposite and passing over the tumbler before he took notice.

“I should have told you about my past with Matt. I was wrong and you have every right not to forgive me, but I really hope you do because you are one of the few people in this world that I trust and I respect so much more than my actions have shown.” Her words tumbled from her with unmistakable sincerity.

“You have always had more guts than any other surgeon I know.” He picked up the glass she had brought him and took a fortifying mouthful. “That night six months ago you were right.”

“I know. We both did everything we could to save Mr. Weber but it was futile.”

Tate shook his head. “No, Kate, you were right about us. We were great friends and we loved each other, but we were not in love with each other. It took me a long time to admit that to myself. My pride was hurt when you rejected my proposal and the anger I felt towards you made it hard for me to realize that I was more angry than sad at what should have been the loss of the love of my life but wasn’t.”

“And now?” Kate asked tentatively, not knowing where the conversation was going.

“Now I should probably thank you and apologize to you for being an ass for the past several months, including my part in what happened today.”

“You have every right to be angry about what happened today. I’m angry. I should have been honest with you from the start when you asked if Matt and I knew each other. But it wasn’t like how he made it sound.”

“It doesn’t matter. For the most part, what happened in your past is none of my business.”

“For the most part?”

“Unfortunately, he is our hospital-appointed lawyer, and requesting a change in counsel might bring to light this little love triangle that I think we all would like to keep under wraps.”

“The hospital rumor mill would love that. It would give the operating room nurses something to gossip about well after my departure. Kate Spence, surgical slut.”

“Don’t.” For the first time in the conversation Tate’s anger returned. “You and I both know you are absolutely anything but.”

“Thank you,” she replied, embarrassed. Despite her level of comfort with Tate, it was still awkward to discuss her sexual history, particularly as he represented half of her total number of partners. He must have felt the same, because he drained the remainder of his glass.

“He still has feelings for you.” Kate’s eyes flew wide and landed on Tate. “It took me a while to pick up on it because things were so tense and uncomfortable between us, but today at his office I think he was clearly marking what he considers his.”

“I’m not his, he never wanted me. He made that very clear, repeatedly clear.”

Tate’s face quirked sarcastically and he changed his voice to a slow,, explanatory drawl. “Kate, I think we have already delicately established that at one time he wanted you very much, and I’m not wrong about him now. Finish your drink and let’s get out of here. We both have early mornings.”

Outside the bar he hailed them a cab and rode with her back to her apartment. When the cab stopped she immediately saw Matt sitting on the front steps of the brownstone, waiting.

“You have company. Do you want me to leave?” Tate asked as the cab pulled to a stop.

“No,” she responded, not sure what she wanted to happen but knowing she was in no state to be alone with Matt. Outside his office, out of his expensive suit, he looked more like the Matt she’d known, and she still didn’t trust herself, angry or not, to be with him.

Without further words, Tate paid the driver and exited the vehicle, coming around to her side to open the door and secure an arm around her waist both for support and as a statement.

“McKayne,” Tate greeted Matt.

“Reed,” Matt replied, before turning his burning stare directly to Kate. “I need to talk to you.”

“We have already talked today and we both said what we wanted to say. Nothing has changed since then.”

“By the looks of things, a lot has changed since then.”

“Not between you and I. Now, if you will excuse us, it’s late.” Kate avoided any further eye contact as she brushed past him, but felt his anger. She opened the door to her building and eventually the one to her apartment, with Tate still behind her. She didn’t look back when the door closed.

“He’s gone.” Tate answered her unasked question. “And I’m not wrong. Matt wants you. Badly.” There was no jealousy in his words.

“’Night, Kate. Take care of yourself.” Then he turned and left. Kate walked over to the door and locked up for the night. If only keeping her heart safe from Matt McKayne was that easy.

CHAPTER SIX

KATE WAS BACK with Tate. Again the sound of their names together and the very thought of it was sickening. Apparently competition was all Tate had needed to see the light and reclaim Kate as his own, and she had been ready and willing. He walked to the kitchen bar and poured himself a drink. He took a sip, allowing the feeling of the cool liquid flowing down his throat to replace the taste of bile the image Kate with another man brought forth.

It didn’t help. He reached for his keys on the entry table but then common sense returned. Nothing good would come of going back to Kate’s tonight. It would probably have the opposite effect of pushing Kate further into the other man’s arms. But he needed to do something. Something to take his mind away from the jealousy he felt towards Tate and the anger he felt towards himself for ever letting her go. He dropped the keys back onto the table, peeled off his shirt and went towards the punching bag in the den. Not bothering to change out of his jeans, he hit the bag, once, twice, and then again and again. No matter how many times or how hard he hit the bag, nothing changed. He wasn’t the man in Kate’s life any more, and he was entirely responsible for that.

He stopped punching and ran his hand through his sweat-drenched hair, feeling his chest rise and fall with the force of his exertion. He needed to cool off his body and his temper so he walked outside onto the penthouse balcony, letting the cold night air hit the bare skin of his chest. He rested his hands on the cement ledge, looking out into the night and without thought in the direction of Kate’s apartment. He couldn’t escape it. Tonight was going to be another night where he relived their ending and the choice he had made.

Kate had always been a temptation he couldn’t resist. From the moment he’d seen her, to every time he had spent time with her, he had told himself he needed to walk away, until he finally had, but not until after the damage had already been done.

If he had known how they were going to end, maybe that would have been enough to keep him from her. But from the moment he’d met her she had became like a vice, a secret addiction that he felt powerless against. He had known that it would never last, couldn’t last. Kate hadn’t fitted into his world, and the way they had been together wouldn’t have lasted once his real life had intruded.

The end was supposed to be graduation. Kate had applied to several medical schools, but of all the Ivy League schools that had accepted her, only Boston had provided her the scholarship she had needed to be able to attend. She’d had no choice: if she wanted to be a doctor then Boston was it. For the complete opposite reasons he’d had to go to New York. Every man in his family had attended Columbia Law and despite his ever-increasing resentment towards his family and their demands, he hadn’t been able to abandon the tradition his own father had been a part of.

Their end came more spectacularly and painfully than he ever could have imagined. It was Kate’s last night at Brown before she moved home for the summer. It was also their last night together. They had talked about visiting each other, staying in touch, but both knew their workloads and schedules were likely to make that impossible, no matter how much they wanted it to happen. He also knew that Kate was an indulgence he couldn’t afford to keep, not with the life that was planned for him.

So that last night she came over to his apartment, like she always did, and they settled in for a night of the “usual.” Take-out, beer and a movie that was meant to serve as a distraction from the inevitable goodbye. As the movie droned on in the background, as she had many times before, Katie cuddled into his side, her naturally cold hands tucked into the warmth of his body. Despite his attraction to her, he had never let their “friendship” become closer than this. What had become torture for him months ago now felt like a lifeline slipping from his grasp.

He was never going to have this again, be with her again, and as he looked down at her, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Her eyes said everything he was feeling. This was it, this was their end, and her lips started to part. She was going to say goodbye, and he didn’t want to hear it. He needed to stop her and instinct took over as he brought his mouth crashing down on hers.

Never in a million years would he have imagined the instant explosive desire he felt on contact with her lips. They were soft and pressed against his. Still partly open, he slid his tongue across them, tasting her; she gasped and he slid his tongue into her mouth, wanting more. He encircled her with his arm, his hand weaving into her hair to hold her against him. Then he felt it, the tentative motion of Katie tasting him back. He slowed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her exploring him, before his desire was once again demanding more.

He pushed them both back across the couch, her body fitting perfectly beneath him. He moved from her lips to her cheek and down her neck, his body supported on one flexed arm, while his other hand dipped underneath her shirt and pressed into her bare abdomen. He heard her moan, felt her arch against him. More, he need more, and he rose from her long enough to pull both their shirts over their heads before coming back to her.

He continued where he’d left off, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, and then the tops of her breasts, which were pushing out of her black lace bra. He brushed his hand over her breast, feeling her hard nipple jutting for attention. Then he cupped her and let his thumb trace the nipple’s outline. More, his lips found the other nipple, and Katie gasped as he kissed and suckled through the black lace. She arched again and he reached behind her and undid the clasp. She grabbed the front of the bra and tugged herself free.

She was perfect. Her brown hair fanned over the couch, her eyes a sultry gray he had never seen before, and her creamy-white skin pink with a flush he now knew extended beyond her face.

He returned to her mouth and kissed her as deeply as he could. Her hands traced up his chest, then curled as she clung to him. She wanted him and he had to have her. He didn’t stop kissing her as he reached for the button on her jeans, pulling them open. His hand slipped inside and he used the heel of his hand to grind against her. She gasped and then moved against him. It was all the encouragement he needed as he slipped his fingers inside to feel her. She felt like hot silk and for the first time Matt thought he might not be able to hold on as he felt himself getting harder than he had ever felt.

Opening his own jeans for relief, he then removed both pairs, pulling her small black panties with her jeans. He was staring at the most beautiful naked woman he had ever seen when Katie reached up and touched him. Her fingers first brushed against the length of him and then encircled him. Her thumb rubbed against the moistness at his tip. He couldn’t wait or last any longer. He moved between her legs and reached behind her thigh to draw one leg up to open her to him and then plunged into her as deep and hard as he could.

He heard her cry out at the same time as he registered the exquisite tightness and muscles clamped all around him. He looked down and saw the pain across her face and a small tear coming from her eye. Oh, God, what had he done? He started to withdraw when her hands came up and grabbed his shoulders to hold him in place. “Don’t move,” she whimpered.

“Katie, I’m hurting you.”

“Please, Matt, just don’t move.”

“Katie.”

“Please,” she begged.

Katie had never asked him for anything before this moment and he shuddered at the thought of this being her first request. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck as he tried to block out the reality that she was a virgin and he had hurt her. He took a deep breath, inhaling the rosemary and mint scent of her shampoo. He couldn’t face the tears in her eyes right now, so instead he spoke softly into her ear.

“Katie, do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The honesty in her response was heartbreaking.

“Okay, wrap your arms around my neck and hold onto me.” She complied, and Matt reached behind her other thigh, holding her to him as he lifted them both into a sitting position, keeping himself deeply embedded within her but now with her in control. He ran his fingers softly up and down her bare back, trying to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry,” she cried softly.

“Shh…I’m the one who’s sorry, Katie.” His hand cupped her face and his thumb brushed away the few tears that were there. Then he kissed her softly and was rewarded with her kissing him back. How long they stayed locked together, kissing, exploring each other’s mouths, tasting and trailing paths across each other’s necks he didn’t know, but he did notice the first small rise and fall of Katie against him. His body had not forgotten where it was and her small movement was enough to make him harden further.

“Oh,” she gasped.

Before he could beg her to let him let go so he could stop hurting her, she moved again, a little more this time. This time the expression on her face was far from one of pain. She was mesmerizing as she moved up and down against him. Her hands anchored on his shoulders as he reached around and cupped her bottom. Each movement was slightly more than the last, her breathing becoming more erratic.

He removed one hand from her bottom and gently spread her, letting his fingers brush her swollen nub at the same time she moved against him. This time her cry was not of pain, and Matt felt her lean into him and increase her pace and depth. She was so tight that every time she moved he felt himself push into a new hot, wet place. Her movements also caused her breasts to brush against his chest with every stroke. Her bottom was firm beneath his hand and his other hand confirmed the wetness he was feeling from the inside.

It was only his fascination with watching her that kept him from losing control. Gently, Matt lifted his hips to meet her downward stroke. Then with each subsequent stroke she came down a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper as Matt continued to rise up to meet her. Then he heard her start to hold her breath, little cries escaping her throat, until she raised herself to his tip and came down as deep and hard as his first thrust, crying out, and he felt her shudder and pulsate against him. He gripped her hips, pulling her as hard to him as he could, and cried out with equal satisfaction as he emptied into her still pulsating body.

She was collapsed against him, panting and slick with sweat, when he heard her whisper, “I love you.”

His heart had been pounding and his mind racing, trying to take in everything that had just happened. It was an impossible situation to avoid, with Katie wrapped around him, him still inside her. He had played with fire and had gotten burned. After over a year of resisting his attraction to her they had gone over a cliff together, past the point of no return. He tried to think rationally, which was almost impossible in the circumstances, but one of them had to, and apparently it wasn’t going to be Katie. He had heard of women becoming emotionally attached to their first lovers, overwhelmed by the experience. Was that what she was feeling? Surely if Katie loved him she would have told him before this.

He wrapped his arms back around her and stood, still clutching her to him. He strode through to the bedroom, where he laid her on the bed, finally separating them. He was pained at the small stain of blood on her thigh, recalling the force that had put it there. He lay down beside her, drawing the duvet over both of them. Katie backed against him, her curves tucking against him, and without thought he wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I’m perfect,” she responded softly, taking his hand in hers and nestling further into him. Minutes later she was asleep, her breathing the only sound in the dark quiet night.

He didn’t sleep. He lay there tortured by the naked reminder of what they had done and tried to figure out where they would go from there. He stared at the night’s lights through his bedroom window and played the arguments in his head over and over again. They had passed the point of no return, and the impossible task of saying goodbye to her had just gotten infinitely harder. It had been a night of firsts for both of them. Kate had lost her virginity and he had actually felt like they had made love, unlike his previous physical encounters. With the added emotion he had become out of control with desire and need. He couldn’t think straight. Not with Katie naked, pressed against him. Not while he was hard and using all his energy just to resist waking her up to make love to her all over again.

When morning had come, he awoke to find Katie facing him, her eyes watching him intently. “I’m not going to Boston.” She had been definitive in her statement and Matt felt the ramifications of their night together growing beyond what he had lain awake imagining.

“Of course you are. I’m going to New York and you are going to Boston, Katie. You know that.” He tried to keep the panic from his voice and match her decisiveness.

“I don’t want to go to Boston, Matt. Not without you.” The situation was spiraling out of control. Did she know what she was saying? Medical school, her scholarship, everything she had worked for, she was going to give that up? For him? No way in hell was he going to let that happen. He had spent his life not being able to have his own dreams or plans and he would be damned if Katie was going to give up hers. He got out of the bed and grabbed the nearest pair of jeans on the bedroom floor, wincing slightly as the denim covered his body’s response to her nakedness.

In a single moment he knew what he needed to do and didn’t stop to think before the words came from his mouth. “Katie, last night was a mistake.” She recoiled and he could tell that he had hurt her, but if that was what it took to keep her from throwing her life away then so be it.

“I don’t believe you.” He could tell that she was trying to be brave with her tone and eye contact, but he also saw that she was now clutching the sheet in her fist as she clung to it. She was still so innocent and he wasn’t going to let his family take that from her.

“I told you last night that I was sorry it happened.” Even he wasn’t sure at that moment whether he was telling the truth or not. Would he trade last night not to hurt her this morning? The only thing he did know was that he would not let her sacrifice her dreams for him.

“And I told you last night that I love you. And I think you love me too.”

She was so brave and so beautiful, and at that moment he knew that he did love her, was in love with her, and loved her enough to do the right thing and let her go, by whatever means necessary.

“Katie, you don’t love me. You just think you love me because of last night, because of it being your first time.”

“Don’t tell me what I think or how I feel, Matt. I loved you before last night, during last night, and even now.”

“Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.” And he turned and left the room, but not before he saw the look of pain strike as his words hit her. When he entered the living room, reminders of the previous night were all around. The half-eaten pizza, the couch cushions on the floor, their clothes haphazardly scattered across the room. He had to leave. He couldn’t face any reminders of what they had shared, reminders that might make him weaken and change his mind, go back to her, tell her he loved her, let her sacrifice herself to be with him. He picked up his shirt, grabbed his keys and left without looking back. When he returned hours later the apartment was empty and Katie was gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT turned into a painful morning as Matt arrived at his office. For the first time in his life he had arrived after eight and already regretted the time spent in self-recrimination over a past that he could not change. He walked through the waiting room on a direct route to his office and saw Tate stand and walk towards him.

“We need to talk,” Tate said bluntly. He was looking him directly in the eye and was obviously not going to back down or be dissuaded.

“Not here,” Matt replied, aware that there was potential for this conversation to end in the two men coming to blows, and wanting to keep that event out of the office. “I need a cup of coffee.”

The two men walked out in silence and remained that way for the ten minutes it took them to reach a local coffee shop. They each ordered and sat down at a table, sizing up each other. Tate was not backing down in his gaze or the hard line of his jaw.

“Are you here to tell me to stay away from Kate?” Matt asked bluntly, challenging the man sitting opposite him.

“No. Kate is a grown woman who is capable of making her own decisions,” Tate answered calmly. The man was confident, but Matt would be too if he had just come from Kate’s bed.

“Apparently,” he replied sarcastically. “So what do we need to talk about, then?”

“Whether you are the best person to be representing us,” Tate answered in the same calm tone, unfazed by Matt’s barb.

“I’m the best,” Matt stated definitively. Through the long hours of last night he had questioned that very issue, wondering if he could stand being with Kate and the man who had taken his place throughout the duration of the case. In the end he’d decided to stay on the case because he still wanted the best for her, and he was still the best.

“I don’t doubt that. My problem is that your former relationship with Kate and the unresolved issues between you are not compatible with working well together. You also probably do not have my best interests at the top of your list of priorities either.” Tate was faintly smiling at his last comment.

“So you want me to resign from the case?” Matt asked, feeling no patience for whatever game the other man was playing.

“That was my first instinct. Then I realized that your resignation would lead to a lot of questions. The last thing I want is for anyone else to know about you and Kate.” Any trace of a smile was gone and Matt saw anger in his eyes for the first time since his initial disclosure of their past together.

“Why is that? You don’t like the comparison?” Matt knew he shouldn’t be pushing, but he couldn’t help himself, his burning resentment overtaking his well-practiced interview skills.

“What I don’t want is the hospital administration rumor mill circulating the exploits of Dr. Spence’s sex life. She’ll be portrayed as something we both know she’s not.”

Matt hated Tate at that moment, hated and respected him for putting Kate first. It was sickening to think that she might have replaced him with a man who was better and more worthy of her than him.

“So what do you want?” Matt finally responded.

“I want you to do your job. I want the lawsuit against us dropped so that we all can move on with our lives.”

“And Kate?”

“I’ve said what I came here today to say. You can figure out the rest.” Then he walked out, leaving Matt at the table.

How many casualties did an event have to involve before it was considered to be a mass trauma? Kate wondered. She was sitting in the café near her brownstone, studying for the board exam, and unfortunately drawing parallels between the state of her life and emergency states. Factor A, the man who had broken her heart. Factor B, a lawsuit threatening her career. Factor C, the risk of failing the board exam due to stress from the aforementioned factors A and B. For the first time in years she was distracted; the words she read fleeing her mind as soon as she read them.

She felt overwhelmed. This was not a new state for her as she was constantly overwhelmed by the physical and emotional strain of her job. But now, for the first time, she felt guilt towards Matt, and the mere presence of the new emotion was enough to push her past her tipping point. It was a struggle, feeling anger towards him and his nerve at coming back into her life as if he belonged there and on the other hand feeling guilt for misleading him about the status of her relationship with Tate. She didn’t want to be the bad guy; she didn’t want to be anything. She wanted to let go of her relationship with Matt; she just didn’t know how to do that.

As if on cue, she lifted her eyes away from her textbook for the hundredth time that afternoon, but this time they fell on Matt. He was walking towards her in jeans and a black polo shirt, which made him look younger than his expensive tailored suits did. The effect was still the same, though, and she watched as several female heads turned and admired everything he had to offer. It was odd that she never stopped being taken in by his pure physical beauty. It wasn’t just his tall stature, powerful build, or the face whose features aligned perfectly, from his deep blue eyes to the perfect faint pink lips that sat between the masculine jaw and nose. It was him, his presence, the effortlessness he exuded.

This was not a made-up appearance, this was who he was—a man like no other. She couldn’t look away, even when parts of her reacted treacherously, still apparently remembering the feel of and taste of him from nights earlier.

Aside from unwanted attraction, she couldn’t move past the astonishment of watching Matt walk up to her table and take a seat opposite her, so much like years past that it hurt, and she swallowed the pain she felt rising within her. She waited, speechless, to hear what was going to come next. What else did they have to say to each other? How much more pain could they cause each other?

“Ask me how I found you?” It was more of a challenge than a question. He was resting on his forearms on the table, his body leaning forward, his entire focus on her.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, confused with where the conversation was going.

He reached over and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, twirling it in his fingers before he uncovered her face. “Because, Kate, I know you.”

“No, you don’t.” She lacked his conviction. His single touch had been less physically intimate than most of their contact since his return, but emotionally it tore at her resolve. He seemed to believe every word he was saying, but she still felt the need to contradict him, to protect herself from the temptation of him.

“Yes, Kate, I do. I appreciate and respect everything that you have accomplished, but that doesn’t change who you are.”

“Who am I, Matt?” She couldn’t resist the question. It was a question that had plagued her for years. Who was she in his eyes?

“You’re mine.” His eyes flashed with the same possession his words held. She should have been offended, she should have been afraid, but what she felt was want.

“No.” The word escaped her lips, but in truth it was more a reminder to herself of what she could not have.

“Yes, you are, Kate, you always have been. You and I both know that.”

She had been his. She couldn’t deny that she had been one hundred percent in her feelings towards him, so much so that the memory of their coming together still brought with it as much a memory of completeness as it did emotional pain. She had also never given him up, not completely, not enough to move on and fall in love with someone else. Enough was enough, though. She wasn’t going to let him keep playing whatever game he was playing.

“What do you want, Matt?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”

“It’s too late, Matt, you can’t have me.” Nothing changed in his demeanor, except that he appeared even more focused and more all-encompassing. He had heard her, but obviously didn’t believe her.

“I already have you, Kate, and this time I have no intention of walking away. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we’ll all be better off.”

Then, without warning, he stood over the table, leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. This time he lingered. She could smell his cologne, breathed in his scent, and felt that heat of his body, before he pulled away. Then, just as he had joined her, he turned and left.

Shock seeped through her from her forehead, which he had kissed so sweetly, to all the muscles inside her that contracted at his touch. Several parts of their conversation competed for attention in her mind. Had he remembered the night she had cried about her mother and he had kissed her on the forehead after carrying her to bed, the night she had realized she was in love with him?

Then there were his words, not just the words but the way he had said them. He had left no room for doubt that he had meant everything he had said. But would she know if he hadn’t? She had spent her career learning to trust herself and her instincts, but with Matt she couldn’t trust herself, her feelings, or him. All the words, declarations, and touches couldn’t change the words that had been carved into her soul. “Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.”

The offensive wail of her pager broke through her thoughts and provided temporary respite. She dialed the hospital operator and was patched through to the emergency department. Within a minute she was gone from the shop, her focus back where it needed to be and the past left behind.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE REACHED THE hospital within fifteen minutes and was in the trauma room gowned and shielded before the ambulance arrived. Chloe was standing next to her, both women waiting. This time their entire interaction was succinct and directed towards patient care.

The ambulance attendants rolled a gurney into the trauma room and the patient was transferred to the hospital bed. The young man appeared to be in his early twenties and was strapped to a backboard with full C-spine precautions. Chloe took the head of the bed and assessed his airway and level of consciousness while he was hooked up to monitors, and Kate and the trauma-team nurses completed a full body survey, assessing for areas of maximal trauma and prioritizing injuries for care.

“His airway is compromised and GCS is six—we need to intubate,” Kate heard Chloe order. And for a window of ninety seconds the team stood back while Chloe intubated the young man. After the endotracheal tube was in place, she and Kate auscultated the lung fields. She didn’t hear any breath sounds on the right, and Chloe confirmed the finding.

“Set up for a chest tube,” Kate called. A sterile tray of instruments was opened and after quickly prepping the skin and changing into sterile gloves, she made a stab incision above one of the man’s ribs and inserted the hard plastic tube until she felt a loss of resistance and heard the trapped air escaping, allowing the man’s lung to reinflate.

“Breath sounds on the right established. Good job, Kate,” Chloe said.

Once the patient’s airway, breathing and circulation had been stabilized, Kate continued. “Details,” she called to the paramedic team, who remained in the room.

“Unknown male, traveling by bicycle when he was hit at moderate speed by a mid-sized SUV. The patient was found several yards from his bicycle, with his helmet still in place but cracked in multiple locations.”

“Has he been conscious since your team arrived?”

“No.”

“Chloe, once you’re happy he’s stable for movement, we need to move for a full-body CT. I need to know what to worry about first, blood in his brain or blood in his chest and belly.”

“He should be stable enough in five minutes. He needs more volume so that he can maintain his pressure and make up for any ongoing losses prior to going to the operating room.”

“Okay. I’m going to call the OR now and have them set up. Have the team page me once his scans are done so I can review them immediately with the in-house radiologist.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

Four hours later, Kate was finally leaving the intensive care unit, where she had just dropped off her patient direct from the operating room. She was still strapped to her pager as the trauma team leader for the week, but now had a momentary reprieve. The cyclist’s helmet had saved his life. His brain had fared okay in the collision.

Unfortunately, the same could not have been said for his spleen, which had suffered a massive laceration after he had hit the curb. The young man had needed an emergency laparotomy and splenectomy, along with several units of blood and blood products, but was going to recover.

Kate walked back to the emergency department to find Chloe finishing up the paperwork from a shift that should have ended an hour and a half earlier. Kate hadn’t bothered to change out of her scrubs and the clogs she’d worn in the operating room and felt exhausted from the fast pace and physical demands of the procedure. Chloe looked like she felt the same, appearing pale in contrast to her bright red hair and the dark blue of the hospital scrubs the emergency doctors also wore. Kate slumped into the chair beside her friend, losing her normal good posture.

“He’s okay. It was a spleen trauma, but it’s out and he’s stable in the intensive care unit,” Kate reported, knowing Chloe’s desire to follow all of her patients.

“Thanks for coming back and letting me know.”

Chloe stood from her chair and wavered before reaching down to the desk for support.

“Are you okay, Chloe?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, just tired, stressed, busy, the usual. I think I might have some low-grade virus or something that has pushed me over the edge.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kate asked, concerned that for the first time her perfectly put-together friend was actually admitting to struggling. Chloe had always made everything seem effortless, which made Kate worry that she was feeling a lot worse than she was admitting.

“Don’t you think you have enough on your plate?” Chloe asked, one eyebrow arching upwards, in a friendly, teasing tone.

“More than I ever wanted, but I’m sorting through it the best I can.” She stared at Chloe, knowing what she should say but fighting a lifelong instinct to keep things inside. “I know that you’re tired, but I was wondering if I could drive you home and maybe we could talk a bit.”

Chloe stopped all the other tasks she was trying to finish and looked Kate in the eye. “That would be more than okay. Give me ten minutes to hand over my patients and I’ll meet you by the parkade elevators.”

True to her word, Chloe met her and they managed their escape without further interruption. “Are you hungry?” Kate asked, realizing she had missed lunch and supper while dealing with the trauma.

“A little bit. Do you have anything at your house?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Eating out, it is.”

Creatures of habit, Kate and Chloe tucked themselves into the back of the small Italian restaurant where the staff knew them by name. Kate waited to order and for their drinks to arrive before she drew in a breath and took the plunge. “Matt wants me.”

Chloe didn’t appear surprised. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I have no idea. At first it seemed purely physical and I thought you were right about it stemming from jealousy over Tate, and I told him that I wanted nothing more than a lawyer-client relationship. Then he told Tate about our past and we had a huge fight, which didn’t seem to deter him at all because he showed up again today.”

“And?”

“He said I was his and that I always have been and I always would be.” She shivered, saying his words aloud having no less impact than hearing them from him hours earlier.

“Is he right?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand what happened between us all those years ago and I don’t understand what’s happening now.”

“So stop trying to think through and understand everything. How do you feel, Kate?”

“Terrified.”

“What are you terrified of?”

“Of trusting him. Of making the same mistakes, getting hurt and losing myself all over again.”

“Okay, that’s a start. If you could trust him and weren’t going to get hurt, would you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

“Yes.” She was surprised at how quickly the words left her, but knew in the instant she heard her own answer that it was the truth.

“Can you talk me through what happened last time?”

“He was my everything. We met in my third year of undergraduate studies at Brown and became friends. He still had a long-distance girlfriend back in New York. During our friendship I fell in love with him, but never told him or acted on my feelings. After graduation he was going to law school in New York and I had a full scholarship to medical school in Boston.”

“So what changed things?”

“Our last night together was unbearable. It was the end: he was going to go on with his life and me with mine. I spent the evening torn between telling him I loved him and just saying goodbye. Then before I said anything he kissed me.”

“And?”

“And I thought we made love.”

“I’m confused.”

“We had sex. I told him I loved him and fell asleep in his arms happier than I had ever been in my entire life. The next morning I knew I couldn’t say goodbye and I told him I wasn’t going to.”

“And?”

“He said he didn’t love me and it had been a mistake. Then he went back to New York to be with his girlfriend and I never heard from him again.”

“Oh, my God, Kate, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine how devastating that must have been.”

“What’s worse is that I didn’t believe him at first. After he left I waited for him to come back to apologize, to tell me the truth, that he loved me and things were going to be okay. But he never came back. I sat in his apartment for hours, waiting, hoping, and he never came back. Even after I left his apartment, I still thought he just needed time, that there was no way he could touch and hold me the way he had and not be in love with me too.”

“So what did you do?”

“I held on as long as I could. I gave up my scholarship to Boston and managed to secure a place at Columbia in New York. I begged my father to take a second mortgage on our house to cover the lost scholarship and I left messages for Matt to tell him I was in New York when he was ready to talk.”

“He never tried to contact you?”

“No, he never looked back. I believed in him so much that I lost all faith in myself.”

The waitress arrived with their order and Kate was grateful for the interruption. As cathartic as it felt to finally talk about what had happened, it also brought to the surface how she had felt.

Both women were silent as they began to eat. Kate’s mind kept telling herself the story. Matt’s abandonment had left her with a small seed of self-doubt that had germinated over months of loneliness. She hadn’t been able to resist following the coverage of his life in the society pages, and seeing him with other women had intensified her loneliness.

It had been a cold, windy day in November when she’d seen him again, walking across campus. She hadn’t seen him in five months but had recognized him instantly in the crowd. She’d called his name and he’d turned to look and then kept walking. She’d convinced herself that he hadn’t seen her. The second time she’d seen him she’d called his name more loudly and he’d moved his head slightly in her direction but hadn’t turned around.

The final rejection had come in March. She had been sitting in a local coffee shop, studying, determined to make the dean’s honor list so she would qualify for a scholarship the following year. She had been deep in thought when she’d had a sense that she hadn’t felt in almost a year. She’d looked up and seen Matt, the same old Matt, in jeans and a cream sweater, with his brown leather tote bag slung across one shoulder. She’d seen him as he’d been looking at her and turning away.

That time she hadn’t been able to say anything, she hadn’t called out his name or even moved from her seat. She’d watched in horror as he’d walked away from her and out of the shop. In an instant all her fears had been confirmed. She had no longer been able to deny that he knew she was in New York and he’d wanted nothing to do with her.

She looked up to see that Chloe wasn’t eating. She glanced at her own plate, which was almost full with her favorite pesto linguine that she had no appetite for. “Do you want to get this to go?”

“Yes, please. I’m exhausted,” Chloe replied. As they waited for the check it was Chloe who broke the comfortable silence.

“Kate, can you think of any reason why Matt walked away from you?”

“I’ve thought of every reason. The only one that justifies his actions is that he really didn’t love me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you want now?”

“I want the impossible. I want to trust the man I love to love me back and not break my heart again.”

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS ANOTHER week before she heard from Matt again. A whole week to replay their entire relationship from their friendship to the night they’d made love, and the repercussions that had followed.

Kate was once again in the emergency department, reviewing consultations with the junior residents, when her pager went off. She looked down at the little black box that seemed forever attached to her and didn’t recognize the number.

She reached for the nearest phone and dialed the displayed number. “This is Kate Spence. Someone paged?” she answered once the person on the other end picked up.

“It’s Matt.”

She paused, not sure what to say. Her conversation with Chloe had helped her understand her feelings towards Matt and it felt even harder to talk to him knowing she still loved him.

“Kate.” Matt said her name.

“I’m here.” She had lowered her voice, not sure where the conversation was headed but knowing she didn’t want it overheard.

“We need to get together to talk about that night,” Matt stated, in what Kate considered to be an overly businesslike tone for something so intimate, something so personal. She arched her back in defense and looked around the crowded emergency department to ensure that no one was within earshot.

“I gave you more than enough opportunity to talk about that night nine years ago, Matt. I don’t want to talk about it now.” She waited and heard him exhale slowly.

“I meant the night that Mr. Weber died, Kate. I need to finish your statement to help with the case. But, for the record, a talk about the other night is long overdue.”

It was her turn to sigh now. She felt embarrassed and could feel color flooding her face. She looked down and studied the linoleum floor as if the more intensely she stared, the more she could avoid Matt’s presence on the other end of the phone.

“I can meet you after you’re done working,” Matt offered, saving her from having to respond to his earlier statement.

“Okay, but not at the hospital.” She actually didn’t know where the best place to talk with Matt was. Nowhere, she thought. She wanted to avoid a public scene but it would be worse to be together in a private place.

“I’ll pick you up at nine—will that give you enough time to finish up? You can tell me then where you want to go.” He was giving her control, but the gesture did little to put her at ease.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll be waiting outside my place at nine. See you then.” And she hung up before she could embarrass herself further.

Matt was becoming more of a contradiction each time she talked to him. Everything she had believed about him was changing. She’d thought he didn’t want her, but now he did. She’d thought what they had been together had been a lie, but he’d said she’d belong to him always. Now, after nine years, he thought they needed to talk about that night, after he had done everything possible to avoid doing that.

Kate returned to the waiting resident and did her best to focus on the patient’s history. After examining the middle aged woman together and then arranging her admission for management of a partial small bowel obstruction, it was eight p.m., and Kate found herself sprinting home.

By the time she entered the brownstone apartment she was breathless. She had twenty minutes before Matt would be arriving, and she knew she had just enough time to shower and change. Years of rushing to and from the hospital at a moment’s notice had taught her to be efficient.

She showered and washed her hair, toweling it dry and twisting it into a knot on top of her head. She rubbed in the lotion her skin desperately needed after long days spent in the dry, non-infectious conditions the hospital maintained. In her bedroom, she managed to find a pair of clean jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater. She was just bending to put on socks when the front buzzer rang. She slipped her feet into tall black leather boots, grabbed her wool coat and applied lip moisturizer as she locked her apartment and proceeded down the stairs to meet Matt.

He was waiting in the entry. He had obviously been home since the office, because the business suit was gone and in its place was a pair of dark jeans with a dress shirt and blue sweater layered over the top. Despite the layered look there was no mistaking the broadness of his shoulders and the build of his chest. The chest she had seen, had felt pressed against her. Damn, this is not what she needed to be thinking.

Matt didn’t say anything. He held open the front door to her building and followed her out to his car, where he opened the passenger door for her as well. Once she was settled he closed the door securely and circled to the driver’s side. It felt like being taken care of, it felt nice, and she didn’t want to be feeling that again with Matt.

“Where do you want to go?” Matt asked, turning towards her with his full attention.

“I don’t know,” Kate answered honestly, too off balance by the situation to think properly.

“We should probably go somewhere private where our discussion can’t be overheard if we’re talking about the case. That leaves out public restaurants. So the options are my office or my apartment—”

“Office,” Kate answered, before Matt had even finished. There was no way she wanted to be back in his apartment with him. Things had gotten way out of control the other night and she would be a fool to think that couldn’t happen again.

“Okay, as you wish.” He shifted the car into gear and they entered traffic. Kate avoided small talk, not knowing what to say, what it was safe to say, in this new weird dynamic between them. They wove down the streets of Boston towards Matt’s office.

They arrived and Matt parked in the underground garage. He used a swipe card to open the door and unlock the elevator that carried them up to his top-floor office. Once inside, he led her through, not to his office, where she would actually have been uncomfortable given their last interaction there, but to a conference room.

The view was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows highlighted Boston at night. The sight of the whole city spread out in front of her made her feel less important and actually calmer about the impending discussion.

“Sparkling water okay for you?” Matt asked, breaking her attention from the beauty of the city.

“Sure.” She took her place in one of the chairs opposite him. “Where do you want to start?” she asked.

He nodded at her and took out a pen and pad of paper. “What was your official role the evening of Mr. Weber’s death?”

“I was the chief surgical resident. I serve as backup in all situations—resident illness, difficult cases and high patient volumes. That night the on-call resident, Dr. Jensen, had been called away to do a retrieval with the transplant team, and I was called in in his absence.” Okay, so maybe this was going to be okay, clean, surgical. She relaxed back into the leather conference room chair.

“What was Dr. Reed’s official role?”

“Dr. Reed was the second on-call vascular surgeon. We have a backup system for all the major surgical disciplines so that in the event a surgeon is tied up in a prolonged surgical case, another patient can still receive timely care and surgical management.”

“How often is the second on call needed?”

“About once every three months, but Tate might be better able to answer that question.”

“Dr. Reed,” Matt stated firmly.

“Pardon?” Kate asked, not understanding what the question was.

“Refer to Tate Reed as Dr. Reed in all your discussion of the case. Referring to him as Tate implies you know him beyond your professional relationship.”

Kate couldn’t tell if this was just Matt the lawyer talking or if it was personal. She decided she didn’t need to know and waited from him to ask another question.

“When were you asked to consult in Mr. Weber’s care?”

“At about ten p.m. I was already in-house, dealing with some issues in a postoperative patient, when the emergency room doctor called me.”

“How soon after did you see him?”

“I went downstairs to the emergency department immediately and started my assessment. While I was examining him, the radiologist called and notified me of the CT scan findings.”

“When did you first try to contact Dr. Reed?” Matt lowered and softened his voice for this question. They were getting into the part of the evening that was less clinical and more personal.

“I called Dr. Reed on his cell phone immediately after I finished on the phone with the radiologist.”

“How many times did you try to call Dr. Reed?”

“I didn’t count, I just kept redialing when I didn’t get through.”

“Did you leave any messages?”

“Yes.”

“Was it unusual for Dr. Reed not to answer his cell phone?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t elaborating on her responses or providing any additional information. The lawyer in Matt actually seemed pleased about that.

“Were there any other occasions when Dr. Reed did not answer his phone?”

“Not prior to that night.”

“Did you have any reason to believe that Dr. Reed was purposely ignoring his calls?”

Here it goes, time to get personal. She took a deep breath and straightened away from the chair, sitting upright and focusing her eyes directly on Matt’s.

“After trying to contact Dr. Reed for twenty minutes, I concluded that he was probably unaware that the attempts being made to contact him were for patient care and subsequently asked the switchboard to reach him.”

“Was his primary contact number for patient care his cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Then why would he not answer it in his role as second call?”

“That is a question for Dr. Reed. I cannot speak to why he would or would not do something.”

“You were always too smart for your own good, Kate.” He reached down and pulled his sweater off, leaving the dress shirt behind. Then he unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled the sleeves up, exposing his muscled forearms. He leaned on them and stared at her across the table. “I have a copy of Dr. Reed’s phone records from that night, as does the plaintiff’s attorney. They show several calls from your cell phone to Dr. Reed’s, all lasting less than a minute.”

“As I stated, I tried to call Dr. Reed for twenty minutes before relinquishing the responsibility to the switchboard.”

“The calls from you start at eight-thirty p.m., well before your interaction with Mr. Weber.”

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to give more detail. She had no intention of describing to Matt, Tate’s proposal and the reasons behind her rejection.

“If Dr. Reed had not answered your earlier calls, do you think it was appropriate to spend twenty minutes using the same form of contact that had been ineffective up until that point?” He wasn’t enjoying this, she could tell, and that was at least something.

“I was using the form of communication listed by the hospital as Dr. Reed’s first contact. When that failed I appropriately moved on to the switchboard as second contact and focused on Mr. Weber, pending Dr. Reed’s contact and arrival.”

“Your attempts to contact Dr. Reed earlier in the evening, were they related to patient care?”

“No.”

“You have a personal relationship with Dr. Reed?” It was more of a statement than a question. She knew where this was going.

“Yes.”

“What is your relationship with Dr. Reed?” He was agitated now. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was going to be a mutually uncomfortable conversation.

“We have worked together for several years and are friends.” Honest, she was being honest.

“Do you have a romantic relationship with Dr. Reed?”

“No.”

“What was your relationship with Dr. Reed the night of Mr. Weber’s death?”

“I was the chief resident and Dr. Reed was the staff surgeon.”

“What was the nature of your personal relationship with Dr. Reed the night of Mr. Weber’s death?” Matt asked pointedly, his entire attention fixed on Kate.

“We had been dating for one and a half years.”

“Was there anything about your personal relationship that night that would have led Dr. Reed to not answer your calls?”

“Once again that is a question for Dr. Reed. I cannot speak to why he would or would not do something.”

“Did you and Dr. Reed end your romantic involvement that night?” His jaw was clenched and she could see the muscle tense as it extended towards his temple. She hadn’t seen Matt angry a lot when they had first known one another, but she recognized it now.

“Yes.”

“Kate,” he sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair again, “you are answering like you are talking to the enemy, which I’m not. If this ever gets to court then, yes, this is the exact way you are to testify, but tonight, with me, you need to open up. I need to know what happened if I’m going to help you.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to know?” It was direct and she didn’t back down with her question or when she held his eyes. What she’d had with Matt in the past had been a lie and she damn sure wasn’t going to continue to let anything but the truth be between them now. He didn’t answer.

“It’s not the only reason.” She looked up as he started his response and saw heat in his eyes. They were locked on hers and she felt her whole body flush and pulse in response. What had seemed like a good idea, to call Matt out, now seemed an obvious, horrible mistake. The detached tone of their earlier conversation had left and everything personal was flooding in. She didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t respond, as her lips parted and she struggled to breathe in and out.

“Kate, are you sure you’re ready to hear more? Are you ready to ask me about the things you want to know?” He was being gentle in his voice, the same soft whisper that had once been in her ear, the same careful handling when she was clearly in over her head.

“Why now, Matt? What’s changed?”

“Everything, and nothing, Kate. I’m not the same man you knew, just as you aren’t the same woman, but what’s between us hasn’t gone away and never will.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. It felt warm, and strong, and all-encompassing.

“There wasn’t anything between us.” She pulled her hand from under his and tucked both hands under her legs, away from the temptation to touch him. She couldn’t let herself get drawn back into the belief that their love was mutual.

“How can you say that, Kate? How can you speak to how I felt about us?” He was lawyering her now, using her own argument about not speaking for someone else against her. It left her cold and brought out the clear, precise, objective words and voice she used as a surgeon.

“Because you told me. You looked me in the eye the morning after we made love and you said, ‘Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.’ Then you proved it by walking out and not coming back, not answering my calls, my e-mails, my letters, and running from the sight of me. That’s how I know how you felt about us.” The ache in her throat was intensifying but she was not going to cry, despite the burning feeling that was pooling behind her eyes.

“I lied to you.”

Her eyes flew to his.

“Why? Why would you do that? Was I that disappointing? That bad in bed that it was worth throwing everything else that was good about us away?” Gone now was her composure and with it her pride, and out came the most painful thought she had buried deep within her and avoided voicing at all costs.

She placed her elbows on her legs and buried her face in her hands, unable to face him any longer, unable to hear his response and horrified that she had asked the question. Within seconds she was being lifted from her seat. Matt had reached for her beneath her arms and raised her out of her chair. Startled, she wrapped her arms around his neck for balance and he wrapped his arms around her further, gathering her to him.

Then he crushed his mouth to hers. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t gentle, it was possessive. The pressure of his lips parted hers and he began to taste her and explore her mouth as if he was a dying man searching for his last drink of water. She was angry, surprised, and entranced all at the same time, until the same urgency and passion from the other night took hold.

She ran her tongue across his lower lip, her response escalating the passion between them. At some point he walked them up against a wall and pressed her against it, shifting her to place himself between her legs and holding her by her bottom, his hands firm and solid. Warmth was spreading through her body until she felt like she was on fire. When they finally broke apart, both were gasping and he slowly slid her down his length to the floor, his erection prominent in the journey.

He cupped one side of her face and brought her gaze to his, and it was the same old Matt. He put his finger against her lips and silenced her before she could talk. “You are the most perfect woman I have ever met, both in bed and out. No woman before or after has ever compared to you. Not a day has gone by in the last nine years that I haven’t wanted to be with you, to hold you, to kiss every inch of your naked body and move inside you until you scream out my name over and over and over again.”

“No.” She shook her head against his words, looking away from the man who was confusing her mind and body.

“Yes, Kate,” he said as he cupped the side of her face again, bringing her eyes to his.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. Actions were more important than words, and his actions had spoken so loudly.

“I did it for you, Kate, I walked away for you, not for me. You were going to throw away medical school, everything you had worked for. You were the most perfect, selfless woman I had ever met and I wasn’t going allow anything to change you or take away your dreams.”

She was stunned by his claim, both by the audacity of the lie and how truthful and heartfelt he seemed to be while making it. She took a deep breath and very clearly and slowly spoke to Matt, looking him in the eye and searching for the truth. “So what you are saying is that if I had been strong enough and gone to medical school in New York, you wouldn’t have broken my heart and walked out on me without looking back?”

“If you had been in New York, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to stay away from you, even if I thought it was for your own good.” The passionate statement fueled her own passion and she reached out and slapped him across his cheek. The sound echoed across the conference room and she was shocked silent by her own action, drawing her hand up to touch her own cheek, mirroring his reaction. She was horrified by her response yet unwilling to apologize.

“It’s been nine years, Matt, you don’t need to bother lying to me any more.”

She didn’t let him reply. He seemed shocked by the turn of events in the last few minutes. She grabbed her jacket and purse and left the conference room, searching for the quickest way out. She didn’t have a keycard to access anything, so instead she headed for the fire stairwell and fled down the twenty-five flights into the building alley. Her heart was pounding as the sound of her boots echoed on the cement stairs. In the dark, in the cold, she caught her breath, her chest heaving. He wanted her. He wanted her enough to lie to her to get her back.

CHAPTER TEN

SHE WAS FROZEN. The wind was blowing strongly off the harbor and the wet coldness was seeping through every inch of her body. She walked quickly through the cobblestoned old roads of Boston that wound their way through the city’s core from Matt’s office back to her apartment. Why had Matt lied to her? What purpose did it serve? Nothing made sense, and she couldn’t tell what hurt more, Matt’s lies or that for a moment she had believed him.

It had taken so long to learn how to trust herself again, but she had, and a lot of that feeling had come from her confidence and success in medicine. She had even felt happy and contented with her life, leaving the past and Matt behind, until Tate had proposed.

Tate on one knee in front of her with a ring, and she had seen Matt. Pain didn’t begin to describe the way she had felt when she’d realized she wasn’t in love with the man in front of her, and that deep inside Matt was still trapped in her heart.

When were those feeling going to go away? Matt wasn’t the same man she had known back at Brown, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. The way she sensed him when he walked in a room hadn’t changed. The way she felt when he touched her had changed, but unfortunately had increased a thousand times over in the intensity she felt go through her the moment his lips or hands touched her body. It was the only time her mind forgot about everything that had happened between them.

Thoughts of the passion tempered the cold she was feeling and she quickened her pace. She could have hailed a cab, but the clear, cold night air was a needed contrast to the storm she was feeling inside. Forty-five minutes later she reached the steps of her apartment, not failing to notice the large expensive sports car and the man behind the wheel a few doors down. So it was not over for tonight, she thought to herself.

She let herself into her apartment and turned on the kettle. What she really wanted was a glass of bourbon, something to warm her through, but she would have to settle for tea, begrudging the responsibility of the pager she carried. She brought her cup to the couch, curled into the charcoal-gray throw blanket and waited. It was ten minutes before the buzzer sounded and she walked to the intercom, buzzed him in and propped open the door. She resigned herself to another conversation that would hurt and bring her no answers or closure.

He walked through the door without words. She watched him expectantly as he closed and locked the door, took off his jacket and made his way towards the couch. He still didn’t say anything as he picked up her legs, which had been running across the cushions lengthwise, and redeposited them on his lap, taking the time to wrap her feet in the blanket-ends to make sure they didn’t get cold.

“We don’t have anything more to say to each other,” she finally said.

“We have a lot more to say to each other and you know it, Kate. The problem is that you don’t believe what I’m saying.” He was subconsciously stroking the sole of her foot with his thumb but didn’t look at her.

“What’s in this for you, Matt? I don’t understand what you want. Why are you saying and doing all these things?”

“I want you,” he said simply, finally turning to look at her, his gaze unwavering.

“Now,” she stated flatly as she pulled her knees to her chest, and her feet and legs away from his touch. “You want me now,” she said. “What has changed your mind? It is Tate?”

If jealousy was what was fueling this, then she was going to call him on it. There would be no more lies or words left unsaid between them. She watched as he reacted to her words: his jaw tightened and his fingers clenched into his palms. He stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity but must have only been a few seconds.

“Tate Reed is a good man, but you don’t belong with him, Kate, you belong with me, you always have.”

“No, Matt, I don’t. Our past together has proved that. We had our chance together and it wasn’t enough for you, and this change of heart isn’t enough for me.” She hadn’t even known herself that was how she felt until the words were out of her mouth. She looked at him and understood that part of him was right, she would always be his, but she couldn’t trust him, and without trust they couldn’t move forward.

“Kate, when was the last time you trusted me?” He knew her too well. He also probably knew the honest response. That night when he’d asked her if she trusted him and then made love to her. She was going to be honest, even if he wasn’t.

“Our last night together at Brown.”

“When was the last time you believed I loved you?”

“The same.”

He didn’t say anything. He reached over and lifted her towards him as though she weighed nothing. He placed her astride him, and she had to place her hands on his shoulders to stop herself from colliding with him. He gently pushed her hair away from her face and pressed his lips to hers. It was them, as they had been.

His lips were soft, the only soft part of a hard man. He didn’t make any move to deepen this kiss, to open her to him. She felt him pull away and opened her eyes with surprise. He had tangled his hand in her hair and from her position on his hips she could feel the hard bulge pressing into the core of her. But he wasn’t moving any further and treacherously she wanted him to.

“Kate…” He quickly touched his lips to hers again before continuing. “Let me prove to you that I love you.” He swept her hair away from her neck and started pressing his lips against its length.

Did he love her? She didn’t know, just as she didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to believe the words she had waited so long to hear.

“What if you can’t?” she whispered, her sense of reason managing to escape before it was completely lost to his touch.

He stopped and cupped the side of her face, returning his eyes to hers. “I will, Kate. This desire, this passion between us is there for a reason, and it’s not going away. I’m not going away.”

Of all the words he could have said, the promise not to leave was the most important thing for her to hear.

He wanted her. She believed that from his touch and the physical pull between them. He’d said he’d lied, but when? Had it been nine years ago or tonight? Did it matter? The only truth She knew was that she wanted him too and that feeling was not going away. Risks versus benefit, she thought to herself. She was pretty sure he couldn’t break her the way she had been broken before, but maybe being with him again would help heal the wounds that had been left between them. Or maybe it would simply cure her burning need to experience again what had been physically and emotionally so nearly perfect that night all those years ago.

She moved her hands from his shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair as she returned her lips to his. She tugged gently at his lower lip, a physical act of agreement, and he responded. The pressure from his lips increased and she felt her lips part as his tongue swept their thin line. She opened her mouth to him and savored the feeling of him exploring and tasting her, responding with equal fervor. He broke from her mouth and moved along her neck as his hands swept under her shirt along her bare back.

Moving forward, his thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts, and her need increased a hundred times over. She reached down to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and off her overheated body. Then she did the same to Matt, wanting to feel their bare skin touching. He kissed her again as their bodies pressed and she instinctively ground her throbbing core against him.

She sighed with relief when she felt the clasp of her bra unhook and the weight of her now heavy breasts drop. She pulled away slightly and Matt threaded the black lace bra off her body. She experienced satisfaction, watching and feeling him cup her breasts in his hands. His thumbs traced the outline of her nipples before rolling them gently between his fingers. It was torture, sweet, sweet torture. She moaned the word “More” and watched Matt smile a very familiar smile as he took the nipple into his mouth. His other hand never left the other breast and it was hard to cope with all the different sensations of pleasure running through her body. She needed something to focus on or she thought she might actually faint from the intensity of his touch.

She ran her hands down the hard, flat plane of his abdomen to the waistband of his jeans. She tugged open the belt, button and zipper, releasing him into her hand. He was so hard that he easily slipped through the fly opening in his underwear, allowing her to touch and caress his naked length. Her hand stroked his entire length, fantasizing about the moment when all of him would be inside her. Her thumb circled his tip, slick already with desire. She felt his hold on her breast and the intensity with which he was sucking her nipple increase as he groaned against her.

“Kate,” he moaned, as he released her breasts so that he could use his hands to gently remove hers from him. Gray eyes met blue as they stared at each other with looks of agreement about where this was headed.

She pulled herself up off his lap and led him down the hall towards her bedroom. She didn’t turn on a light but the uncovered window allowed in the city’s night-light glow, which reflected off their bodies. She finished what she had started and while standing in front of Matt, facing him, she removed the rest of her clothing. He stepped towards her and she removed his as well, until they were both naked.

His hands returned to her face and hair and he pressed his lips against hers again, like the calm before the storm. Kate gasped as he lifted her from her feet and deposited her on the bed. She felt a shiver course through her body and couldn’t tell if it was from the night air against her naked skin or from anticipation.

She didn’t stay cold for long. She watched Matt study her before he joined her, covering her body with his own. She savored the feel of the weight and the heat of him against her. She opened her hips as each leg wrapped around him until he was positioned perfectly, as much her doing as his.

He didn’t enter her. He stayed motionless below the waist, even though she was arching and pushing against him. He started kissing her again, her lips, her neck, her breasts and nipples. His body weight was held on one arm and as Kate writhed beneath him she unconsciously absorbed the beautiful architecture of the muscles in that arm and shoulder. His free hand caressed down her side towards the inside of her thigh. She had never wanted something so badly and she grabbed his hips in an attempt to pull him forward, but again he resisted.

She felt his lips and the stubble of his cheek return to her neck when he again moaned against her. “Kate, I’m trying really hard to take things slow this time and make love to you the way I should have, but you’re making it really, really hard.”

“Please, Matt,” she begged, still struggling towards his final possession. She could see the change in him. His resolution faded and the small upward turn of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He stroked her leg one last time from her bottom to the knee that was crooked around his back. His hands went to either side of her head as he pressed forward and she felt the tip of him at her entrance. The slight touch after the agony of waiting caused her to catch her breath and close her eyes with pleasure.

“Kate, open your eyes and look at me.”

She did so and the moment they made contact he pushed into her so deeply that she didn’t know where he ended and she began. He moved slowly at first, his eyes never leaving hers as he stroked within her. There was no pain this time, just pleasure and a sense of completeness that she didn’t want to examine. With every touch of him she couldn’t imagine being able to stand the exquisiteness of another touch, and then he pushed in again. She could feel her body working with his as her muscles tightened against him, and he responded by moving more deeply inside. She felt panicky as the surges of pleasure started to build and she couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the release that was coming so quickly. She teetered on the edge, trying to hold on, trying to prolong the intimacy and connection between them.

“Kate, trust me, let go.” His words, accompanied by almost complete withdrawal and a deep thrust, sealed her fate as she finally broke eye contact, closing her eyes and arching her back as she climaxed and tears of release streamed down her face. Her first aftershock was almost as powerful as her orgasm and was joined by a growl from Matt as he buried his head against her and cried out as she felt him spill into her.

She struggled to catch her breath, but equally calmly savored the weight of him collapsed against her. His lips brushed against her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears. She wasn’t sure how long they remained that way, contented and too spent to move.

The shrill of her pager startled them both. Matt pulled out and away from her and she felt instantly bereft. The second beep focused her attention on the little black box that was still clipped to her jeans, lying discarded on the bedroom floor. She moved off the bed and unclipped the device, pushing the solitary button and registering the number of the emergency department.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She found the portable phone and dialed the number, her back turned towards Matt.

“It’s Dr. Spence. I was paged to this number.”

“It’s Ryan Callum.” Dr. Callum was one of the senior emergency attending physicians, and if her alarm hadn’t been raised before, it was now.

“Kate, I’m calling about Chloe Darcy. During her shift tonight she was found unconscious in the doctors’ change room.” Any self-conscious feeling she had about standing naked answering a page faded in place of fear as her heart started pounding in her chest and the blood seemed to drain from her body.

“Oh, my God.” She slumped down onto the edge of the bed. “Where is Chloe now?” It was hard to contain her panic. This wasn’t a patient, this was her best friend.

“She’s in Section A of the emergency department. Kate, I’m calling because you are listed as her emergency contact on her health forms.”

“I’ll be right there.” Section A was not good. If Chloe had just fainted from exhaustion or low blood sugar she would be in a lower acuity part of the department. Section A was reserved for critical patients requiring continuous monitoring and one-on-one care.

She stood, turned and collided with Matt, her naked body flattening against him. He had pulled on his underwear and jeans, but his shirt was still in the living room. His arms reached around to steady her and then quickly released her. He handed her a robe, which she batted away, and then he left the bedroom as she searched for new clothing. In less than thirty seconds she was ready and in the living room, where Matt stood holding the front door of the apartment open.

“I’m driving you.” It was not a request, it was a statement, and she found herself grateful for his decisiveness as she was feeling more panicky than she could ever remember feeling.

She was gripped with fear as Matt sped towards the hospital. She couldn’t talk, her thoughts stuck on repeat in her head. Chloe was her best friend, her rock. Chloe had gotten her through Matt’s abandonment. Chloe had supported her through the breakup with Tate. But where had she herself been when Chloe had needed her? She had been self-destructing with Matt. Guilt coursed through her, thinking of the pleasure she had been experiencing while Chloe had been lying unconscious, waiting to be found.

Her friend had not been herself the other day. Kate had noticed that she had looked tired and pale, but Chloe had reassured her that it was just a virus. Kate had been so wrapped up in her own problems she hadn’t taken the time Chloe had needed, like a good friend, like a good doctor, should have. Her mind raced as she established the differential diagnosis for viral illness and syncope. For a healthy woman to be in a critical condition it either had to involve her cardiac, respiratory or neurological systems, or a combination of them. If it was her heart, that would mean myocarditis and inflammation of the heart, leading to abnormal rhythms or, worse, a cardiomyopathy or valve damage, leading to permanent disability. If it was respiratory, then it would be an aggressive coronavirus like the SARS outbreak a few years back that had led to the deaths of many health care workers. If it was neurological, then it would be meningitis, which could lead to permanent neurological impairment.

“Stop.” Matt’s voice broke through her thoughts. She turned and looked at him, though his eyes didn’t leave the road. “She’s going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that,” Kate replied in a scared whisper. She wanted in her heart to believe what Matt was saying, but rationally she knew that there was no way to predict sometimes what would happen. She had been in medicine long enough to understand that bad things happened to good people for no reason at all, and Chloe was the best person she knew.

Before they could talk more, Matt pulled into the emergency room loading dock. She took one glance at him, and heard him tell her to go as She jumped out of the car. She raced through the automatic doors and through the emergency department to Section A. She reached the large, wall-mounted computer screen that tracked patients, searching for Chloe’s identifier. She saw 30F listed under room four, thirty-year-old female—that would be Chloe. She controlled the desire to keeping running, and walked quickly to room four.

She wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her. The room was empty but not cleaned. Her eyes darted around as her mind pieced together the information her eyes were processing. The stretcher was gone, so that meant that Chloe was somewhere in the hospital, having been transported on said stretcher. The floor was smeared with blood, not a lot of blood but enough. The rapid transfuser was in the room, a sign that Chloe had required a blood transfusion. In the sink she saw several empty IV bags, more evidence of vascular collapse. The scene before her was compatible with only two scenarios. One was a severe viral infection, leading to hemolytic anemia and septic shock. The other was hypovolemic shock secondary to acute blood loss. Either way, Chloe was very, very sick.

She left the room and her eyes searched the unit for Ryan Callum, but she couldn’t see him. When she didn’t immediately see anyone who would be useful in helping her locate Chloe, she left the department with a list of three possible locations in mind. Radiology, Intensive Care Unit, or the operating room. Chloe had to be in one of those locations.

She went to the main floor radiology unit first. The one benefit of doing nothing but work for the past four and a half years was that everyone in the hospital recognized her, even out of scrubs, and was quick to provide her with the information she wanted. Chloe wasn’t in Radiology, neither was she in the intensive care unit. That left the operating room and Kate’s fear increased. She went to the OR change room, put on scrubs and covered her hair to allow herself access to all areas.

It was after hours, which meant that only a few of the operating theatres were still running. She walked the hall, looking for activity and lights. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Tate staring through the small rectangular window of an operating-room door.

He didn’t notice her. He just stared, transfixed, through the window.

“Tate,” she said quietly, as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t turn to look at her, keeping his eyes glued on the window. “I think she’s stabilizing. They kicked me out of the room, so I can’t tell for sure. But they have stopped calling for blood and I can see the anesthesia monitors and her heart rate has come down to the one-twenties and her blood pressure is back up.”

“What happened?” Kate asked, desperately wanting to see for herself.

“I don’t know, they won’t tell me anything. The usual patient confidentiality, etc. I only got here about fifteen minutes ago. I was checking the operating-room board to see how many cases were lined up for tonight at the front desk when the porter from the blood bank came to drop off blood. I overheard him verifying Chloe’s name and blood-bank number with the unit clerk.”

“Who is in with her?”

“Gynecology,” he said, his resentment coming through clearly.

“Oh.” Kate felt some understanding drift in. The department of obstetrics and gynecology was a separate surgical department from the department of general surgery. While both groups worked in the same operating rooms, the two disciplines kept to themselves with little understanding of the ins and outs of each other’s fields.

“Is it a hemorrhagic ovarian cyst?” Kate asked, still needing answers.

“I don’t know, Kate. Like I said, they won’t tell me anything.” She stopped asking questions.

It was right that they were guarding Chloe’s privacy, but at the same time it was intensely aggravating. Being in the health care field, she had become used to having access to people’s confidential information. Only this time she and Tate were not responsible for Chloe’s care, so they had no need to have access to that information other than for their personal interest, which did not entitle them to it.

She and Tate stood there for another twenty minutes before Kate had had enough. Let them throw her out, let them reprimand her even for her inappropriate behavior. She was already being sued. This, at least, would be worth the consequences.

Without words, she gently pushed Tate to the side and went through the operating-room door. She wasn’t ready for what she saw, despite it being an everyday scene. It felt completely different when the person on the operating table was someone you loved. Chloe was lying there, surrounded by the surgical team. There were two anesthetists at the head of the table, two scrub nurses, and what looked like three people from the gynecology team. She looked at the faces and recognized Erin Madden, the chief gynecology resident, whom she had met on several occasions over their years in training.

“Hi, Kate.” Erin acknowledged her presence, though her eyes didn’t deviate from Chloe’s abdomen, which was open on the operating room table.

Part of Kate wanted to get closer, but she wasn’t sure she was ready emotionally to see Chloe so exposed. She also didn’t want to push her luck and risk getting thrown out, as Tate had.

“She’s going to be okay. We have evacuated the hemoperitoneum and have stopped the bleeding. We are going to be closing in the next few minutes and then she will be going to Recovery, followed by a short stay in the intensive care unit in case she runs into any massive transfusion complications.”

“Uh-huh.” Kate nodded, trying to process the information she was being given.

“I’m sorry we had to open her, Kate. We tried with the laprascope but she had too much blood in her abdomen and was too unstable to tolerate it.”

“But the bleeding has been stopped?” Kate asked, unable to keep herself from surveying the room, her eyes focused on the evidence of what looked like a massive blood loss.

“Yes.”

“What happened?” Kate finally asked.

“That’s not for me to disclose to you, Kate. Chloe will be able to tell you herself later, if she chooses to. I think you should go now and take Dr. Reed with you. She is stable and we’ll take good care of her. You can see her in the intensive care unit in a couple of hours, once she’s settled in.”

“Okay,” Kate said, resigned, knowing she would get no more from Erin. “Thank you,” she said to the team that had obviously saved Chloe’s life.

She left the room, gently pushing on the door to make sure it didn’t hit Tate. He hadn’t moved.

“She’s okay. They won’t tell me what happened, but they opened her, stopped whatever was bleeding, and she’s stabilized. She’s going to go to the intensive care unit for a short while because of the large amount of blood products she received.”

“Thank you, Kate,” Tate replied. His eyes were still trained on the window and he didn’t budge from his spot outside the door.

“Tate, they have asked us to leave the operating room and I think we should. She’s stable and there is nothing we can do for her except get in the way and distract the team.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“We’re not leaving her, Tate. We are helping her by getting out of the way and letting them do their jobs. The same thing we ask other people to do for us.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him a little to ease him away from his spot.

“Tate, we need to go. You know Chloe would never want us to see her like this.” It was true, but she still felt mean, using guilt to move Tate away.

“Are you in love with Matt McKayne?” he asked, with no reproach or anger left in his voice.

She was shocked both by the abrupt change in the conversation and the directness of the question itself. So much so that she answered without thinking about her response. “Yes, I think I always have been, even when I hated him.”

“Then you should be with him. Forget everything that has gone wrong between you and be together.”

“It’s not that simple, Tate. I can’t trust him.”

“Kate, that’s not simple,” he replied, pointing towards the door. Then he took one last look through the window and walked away from both Chloe and Kate.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AFTER DROPPING KATE off at the emergency entrance doors, Matt waited. The admitting office had informed him that Dr. Darcy would be going to the intensive care unit and Matt found his way to the unit’s family waiting room and waited. In the three hours he waited for Kate he replayed all the scenes of the past, including the one tonight.

She had known it was him. For the first time there was not a single doubt in his mind about whom Kate wanted. She had used his name and kept her eyes open as they had made love and it had been the most powerful sexual experience he had ever had. She really was the most perfect and beautiful woman he had ever met.

The hard waiting-room chair he sat on and the coffee-machine brew he sipped were a stark contrast to the earlier events of the evening. He cringed both at the coffee and at his unfair resentment and anger towards her pager and her job. It was irrational to feel resentful when Chloe Darcy was fighting for her life, but he still had the feeling. He had finally been getting through to Kate. Physically they were on the same page and he was angry that they were not going to have the rest of the night to work towards resolving the remaining distance between them. There was still some part of the picture he was missing, something that was holding Kate back from opening up to him completely.

Ever since he had returned he had assumed that something had been Tate. The pair’s past relationship, that first night together when they had almost made love and she had stopped suddenly, the night he’d seen them together at her apartment, and the obvious continued connection and trust between them had left him with little other explanation. But he had been wrong. He was certain now that they were not together romantically. Kate was Kate and she would never have made love with him if she was in love and involved with another man, he was certain of that. So what explanation did he have for her refusal to believe the truth and her violent reaction towards him and his long-ago reasoning?

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, having to purposefully steer his mind from the graphic images from earlier tonight that were etched in his mind. The site of Kate and Tate walking through the intensive care unit’s automatic doors helped his cause.

He studied them, looking for signs of how Chloe was and also in an attempt to define their relationship. There was a familiarity, a trust between them that he envied.

Kate had changed into her hospital scrubs, the dark blue matching the smudges under her eyes.

“How is she?” he asked. Tate took a moment to look at Kate, though Matt had no idea what meaning was meant to be expressed.

“Excuse me,” Tate said, before he walked away down the hall of the busy unit.

“She’s going to be okay.” Kate’s voice brought his attention back to her.

“What happened to her?” He knew enough about medicine from his work in medical defense to know that healthy young women did not end up in the intensive care unit without a serious reason.

“We don’t know. Well, the doctors who worked on her know, but they are maintaining her right to confidentiality,” she replied, her frustration and despair obvious. She pulled the elastic band from her hair, allowing it to tumble around her shoulders in an effort to release tension. He reached out and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her, and was comforted when she relaxed into him. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to break this moment of respite between them. He moved his hand up to the base of her head and gently massaged the tense muscles beneath his fingers.

He didn’t know how long they stood together, but he savored every second. She finally pulled away and stepped back to look at him. “I need to check on Chloe, shower, and get to work.”

He placed his hands on her upper arms, not wanting to break their connection. “What can I do, Kate?”

“Nothing, there is nothing you can do. I have a change of clothes and toiletries here so I don’t need to go home. Tate is on nights this week, so between us one of us can always be with Chloe. I need to focus on her, Matt. She needs to be my priority.” There was a clear message in her statement, and Matt knew better than to try to change her mind. Kate would spend twenty-four hours a day at the hospital if that was what it took to do her job and be with Chloe. She had ranked her priorities, Chloe and then work. He wasn’t on her list, despite what had happened between them.

“Promise me you’ll call me if you need something, Kate. I would also like to know how Chloe does. She seems like a good person.”

“Yeah, she really is.” She sighed and then drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I need to go. Thank you for being here.” Then she broke free and walked away.

Matt left the hospital just as the sun was rising in the cold spring air. He stopped at his apartment to shower and change clothes and was in the office by seven. He knew that there was nothing he could do to help with Chloe’s recovery, but he could do the one thing he had been hired to do, and get Kate out of the lawsuit.

He had reviewed the file and after talking to Tate and Kate he had a clear understanding of the events of that evening. Tate and Kate had been together, and that night Tate had ended their relationship. Kate had been upset and had made several attempts to talk to Tate and he had ignored her calls to his cell phone. Kate had then been called back into the hospital, where she had been when she’d been consulted on Mr. Weber’s care. After the results of the CT scan had established the diagnosis, Kate had organized Mr. Weber’s care and made attempts to contact Tate Reed as the second on-call vascular surgeon. She had reached him via the switchboard within twenty minutes and Mr. Weber had been in the operating theatre within twenty minutes of that contact. All the medical experts agreed that Mr. Weber’s aortic dissection had not been survivable, based on the extent of damage seen on the CT scan images.

There was no way the Webers’ attorneys had not had the same medical opinion. It was the most consensuses Matt had ever had on a medical opinion, with all five of the firm’s retained experts plus an additional two independent consultants reaching the same conclusion.

So what was fueling this lawsuit? Was it Kate’s conversation with Mrs. Weber after her husband’s death? Was it greed? He didn’t think so. He had learned a lot about Mrs. Weber in his preparation and she didn’t seem like the type of woman who would sue for the purpose of undeserved financial gain. Was it love? The couple, by all reported accounts, had been devoted to each other, but, that being said, being in love and losing that loved one alone didn’t typically lead to multi-million-dollar lawsuits. That left guilt. Guilt could lead to just about any action, as he could attest to, based on his own past actions.

The question he had to answer now was what was there for Mrs. Weber to feel guilt about to the point she would want Mr. Weber’s death legally proclaimed the fault of Boston General and the medical staff responsible for his care?

Typically, this was the point in the case where the firm’s private investigators would take over and within one to two months would produce the report he needed. But he didn’t have that kind of time.

He read the file again and then picked up the phone. “Hello,” the voice of a woman answered on the other end.

“Mrs. Weber, this is Matt McKayne. I represent Boston General in the lawsuit that has been brought against them. I was wondering if we could meet? You are welcome to bring your attorney along, of course, if that would make you feel more comfortable.” Matt waited as there was no response other than the sound of her breathing.

“Why should I meet with you, Mr. McKayne?” she asked tentatively.

“Because I want to do the right thing, Mrs. Weber. For your sake, as much as that of everyone else involved in this case.” He was being sincere. Mrs. Weber would eventually lose this case and the longer it went on the more legal expenses she would have, with nothing gained except for more unresolved grief.

“I need to discuss it with my attorney.”

“Of course. Ask him to contact my office and we can meet whenever you are ready. I appreciate you talking to me today.” He had no anger towards this woman, despite that fact that she was responsible for the lawsuit that could destroy everything Kate had worked for. If the lawsuit was successful, everything he had given up would have been for nothing. But Mrs. Weber was also a widow. She had already lost her husband, the love of her life. She had lost enough. Matt couldn’t be angry with her, however misguided her actions had become.

“We’ll be in touch, Mr. McKayne. Goodbye.”

Forty-five minutes later, her attorney called and an appointment was made for the day after next. That gave him forty-eight hours to find the real reason behind the lawsuit and get the case dropped.

He was missing something. There were facts somewhere that didn’t add up, with the case and with Kate herself. For the first time in his career he felt inferior to the task at hand. His feelings and involvement with Kate had led him to change his approach, and his focus had been on her and not on the facts of the case. Not that he was succeeding with Kate. Physically, they connected. Emotionally he still felt like they were living two parallel stories.

He picked up the desk phone again and dialed his assigned paralegal. “Andy, it’s Matt. I want every piece of information we have on the Boston General case. I also want the security video from the emergency department waiting room and the triage area for the night in question.”

He didn’t wait for a response and hung up immediately. He needed to focus on the case and find the small thread that would lead him to the answer. Would getting the lawsuit dropped win back her trust? He didn’t think so. She wanted something more from him and he didn’t know what that was. He had already confessed to her the truth about his lie and why he had done it, but that hadn’t been enough for her.

Damn, he couldn’t think about the case without thinking about Kate and last night. He pulled at the tie around his neck and ran his fingers through his hair, squeezing the tense muscles at the back of his neck. Even with her preoccupation with Chloe’s illness, it was going to be impossible to stay away from her. Every part of him wanted to be with her again. It wasn’t just the physical desire. It was her letting him hold her that morning in the intensive care unit lounge and for the first time relaxing and not pulling away. It had been a small return to the way they had once been. He passed his hand over his face and straightened his posture. He needed to separate himself physically from her if he had any hope of finding out the truth.

Kate shifted uncomfortably in the bedside chair. It was nine in the evening and the toll of the stress and lack of sleep was building by the hour. She felt new compassion for the family members who “slept” in the chairs every night to be close to their loved ones. Her neck and back ached from the awkward positioning and her heart ached from last night.

So much for closure, she thought to herself. Making love with Matt had done anything but provide closure. It had brought her back to the way they had once been, the way she had once felt, and afterwards she’d had no doubts that she didn’t just love him, she was in love with him. Again. Still.

The monitor rang and a white tape was ejected from the machine. She looked at Chloe and her guilt was enormous. It seemed so wrong to be thinking about Matt when Chloe was lying in the intensive care unit intubated and unconscious while her body slowly recovered from the massive insult it had been dealt.

Her red hair made a sharp contrast to the pale hospital linen and the sterility of the room. Hours earlier Kate had brushed it and braided it to the side, trying to maintain some of her friend’s dignity in such exposing circumstances. Her face, on the other hand, blended in perfectly, her pallor severe despite all the blood she had received. Kate reached out and curled her fingers around Chloe’s. She was surprised at the small twinge she felt in response to the action, a reflex she hadn’t expected yet but was grateful for.

“Chloe, it’s Kate,” she said, though even if Chloe had been conscious she would be physically unable to answer her with the breathing tube in place.

“Chloe, I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. I should have been a better friend to you when you told me you weren’t feeling well, instead of focusing on myself and my problems. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

She understood family members more at that time than she ever had in her career. The ones who asked the same questions over and over again, so much so that she was late every morning on rounds, the ones who pushed and demanded for more testing and intervention than was being recommended, and the ones who never left the building, despite your assurances and recommendations to do so. She understood perfectly now that they did those things out of love, guilt, and fear; all in a desperate attempt to bring that person back to them the way they had once been.

The alarm rang out again and Kate’s focus shifted back to the monitor. Chloe’s heart and respiratory rates were elevated beyond the machine’s set parameters. She was breathing on her own above the ventilator. She looked back and saw Chloe start to move subtly, her head moving back and forth and her arms and hands testing their strength. The alarm had also triggered her one-on-one nurse to come into the room.

“She’s waking up and starting to fight the tube,” the nurse assessed quickly.

“Page the doctor on call and ask him to come and see if she can be safely extubated,” Kate ordered, temporarily forgetting her role as a friend and not as the physician giving orders.

She reached out and stroked Chloe’s hair away from her forehead. “Chloe, it’s Kate. Try to stay calm. You are okay. You are intubated and in the intensive care unit but, I promise you, you are okay. You just need to hold on for a few more minutes and I’m going to see if they will take the tube out. If you start panicking they are just going to give you more drugs and leave it in, so you need to stay calm with me for the next few minutes, okay?”

Kate hadn’t been sure how conscious Chloe was until her eyes slowly opened and they looked remarkably clear, like she had understood every word Kate had spoken. Kate reached out and squeezed her hand, in part as reassurance and in part to prevent Chloe from instinctively reaching for the tube.

She didn’t break eye contact with her for what seemed like hours, but was actually only minutes, before the on-call intensivist arrived.

“Dr. Spence, I’m going to ask you to step out while we go through our extubation check list to make sure it is safe to do so.”

She still didn’t turn to look at the voice, not wanting to break her connection with Chloe. “Chloe, you heard that. I have to leave for a few minutes while they evaluate you. No room for big dumb surgeons on these occasions. I’m not going to be far away, though, and I’ll be back here as soon as they let me, okay?”

She waited for a sign of understanding and felt relieved as Chloe slowly moved her head up and down on the pillow. She squeezed her hand one last time and then let go, leaving the room quickly before she changed her mind and tried to force them to let her stay.

Back in the family waiting room she dug into her bag for her cell phone. She needed to call Tate and tell him about the change in Chloe’s condition.

“Tate Reed,” he answered instantly, as though his phone had never left his hand.

“It’s me. I was just with Chloe and she has regained consciousness and is looking appropriate to extubate. They kicked me out, but the ICU doctor is with her now, so I’m hopeful that they’ll take the tube out and she’ll be well enough to leave the ICU.”

“Is she in pain?” he asked, and Kate was impressed that he seemed to have more surgical sense than she did. She had almost forgotten about the six-inch incision that spanned Chloe’s abdomen and which had remained well covered beneath the bed’s sheets.

“No, Tate, she didn’t seem to be in any pain. She actually seemed just like Chloe, surprisingly beautiful and understanding, even intubated with all the other tubes and wires all around.”

“When do you think we can see her?”

“I think these things take about an hour by the time they assemble all the equipment and appropriate staff in case she doesn’t do well. But I really don’t think she is going to run into a problem.”

“I have to start another case in the operating room and it’s too late to find someone to cover for me. Can you let me know how she is as soon as you see her again?” Tate was a meticulous and in-control surgeon. He had to be. As a vascular surgeon, his target was everything from the largest to the smallest of blood vessels, with many of his cases being the difference between life and death.

“Of course, but, Tate, I’m really sure she is going to be okay. It’s Chloe. I mean, who else goes directly from work to the intensive care unit? I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to take a shift tomorrow,” she tried to joke.

“That’s not going to happen.” Her attempt to lighten the conversation hadn’t worked.

“I know, Tate. Go and do your case. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“Thanks, Kate.”

She glanced again at the phone in her hand, thinking of Matt. A sense of déjà vu passed over her and it was not a welcome one. No messages and no missed calls. Nothing to reassure her she had not just made the same mistake twice.

“Kate.” Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her name. Erin Madden was standing in front of her. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that an hour had passed and it was almost eleven o’clock. Her fellow resident was dressed as though she had just come from home, in jeans and a casual long-sleeved shirt.

“The intensivist paged me to let me know that Chloe had regained consciousness and had been safely extubated. I need to do her assessment and talk to her and then you can see her.”

She had never respected gynecology as much as she had learned to in the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t the roses-and-sunshine specialty the other surgeons thought it was. They really did save lives, this time her best friend’s life, and she would be forever grateful. “Okay. Thank you, Erin, for everything.”

“It’s our job. Kate, I’m probably going to be at least a half an hour if not more. Why don’t you get something to eat or take a nap in one of the call rooms? I’ll page you when I’m done.”

Kate nodded, appreciative of Erin’s concern for her well-being and also for the time she was spending on Chloe’s care. She watched the petite blonde walk away and decided to take her up on her advice. She walked from the intensive care family lounge to the operating room and found Tate in the recovery room, writing post-operative orders.

He noticed her instantly and she smiled warmly at him, trying to convey the good news before she reached him. “She’s been extubated and is doing well. They paged Gynecology as her attending service and Madden is in with her now. It will be another hour before she can have visitors.”

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Don’t thank me. I should have known something was wrong when I saw her the other day and she complained about feeling unwell. Instead, I was too distracted by Matt to notice what was going on with my best friend.”

“Kate, you are one of the most important people in Chloe’s world. She knows how much you love her and how important she is to you, just as You are to her. You two are inseparable. So stop feeling guilty about a situation you had no involvement in or control over. You know that she would hate that, even more than I do.”

“You’re right. You know us both really well.”

“Yeah…” He paused. “I need to get these orders done and the operative note dictated. I’ll go and see Chloe in a few hours after you two have had some time together.”

“Thanks, Tate. I’ll see you later.”

She hurried downstairs towards the hospital coffee shop, happy to have made it before its midnight closing. Too many nights confined to the hospital’s vending machines had made their contents completely unappetizing. After getting a cup of tea and a sandwich prepared earlier in the day by the hospital’s ladies auxiliary, she made her way back to the intensive care lounge, knowing that she would be more disoriented after thirty minutes of sleep than she would be after none.

She ate the sandwich quickly, having failed to notice how hungry she was until she actually had food in her stomach. She sipped the cup of tea slowly. It was almost a full hour before Erin Madden emerged.

“At least you went for something to eat,” she said, smiling and gesturing at the wrapping. “Chloe’s doing well. They are going to move her to the obstetric ward in the morning.”

“The obstetric ward?” Kate repeated, her confusion clear in her tone.

“Chloe and I both agreed that that would offer her more privacy than any of the other surgical wards, where she might have known or interacted with some of the patients,” Erin answered, unfazed by being questioned about her medical decision-making.

“Do you think the nurses there are experienced enough to handle her postoperative care?” Kate asked, still feeling wary of the choice of ward. She had rarely been to the obstetric ward and felt anxious about Chloe being somewhere she didn’t know.

“Kate, if there is one thing Obstetrics is good at, it is management of bleeding.”

“Okay,” Kate agreed. She couldn’t dispute the quality of care Chloe had already received and had to trust the team taking care of her. Particularly as she still didn’t know what exactly had happened to Chloe.

“I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to totally exhaust yourself, Kate. I promise you, if anything changes you’ll know as soon as I do.”

“Thanks, Erin. Have a good night.”

She walked back to Chloe’s room and found her asleep in her bed. She no longer had the breathing tube and without the sound of the ventilator, the room was much quieter. Chloe opened her eyes as Kate moved back towards the bedside chair.

“Hey,” Chloe croaked, her throat still raw from the irritation of the tube.

“Hey, yourself,” Kate replied, unable to keep herself from smiling at the joy of just being able to have this conversation.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Chloe whispered.

Kate reached out and took her hand, fighting for control of her emotions as she said the words that had been repeating in her head since the call. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“Kate, there was nothing you could have done.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Kate asked gently.

“Not tonight. It’s too complicated and I’m too tired and sore to understand the situation myself. Is that okay?”

It was a complete role reversal. Chloe was asking for understanding without explanation, the same thing Kate had wanted when they had first met.

“Of course it’s okay, Chloe. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” she replied. A little flicker of her usual self in her eyes, as one eyebrow arched upwards.

“Anything you want,” Kate reaffirmed. She was ready and willing to agree to anything for Chloe.

“Go home, Kate, you look almost as bad as I must.” She laughed and then had to brace her stomach because the movement caused her pain. Then laughed again at her action.

“Nice, Chloe.” Kate laughed quietly. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”

“I know. And you also know that all I’m going to do tonight is sleep, so you should go home and do the same.”

“I hate it that you are so selfless and reasonable, but I’ll do as I’m told. Tate is working nights this week. He’s going to stop by in a couple of hours to check in.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Behave yourself while I’m gone. Can’t have you cheating on me with any other surgeons, now, can I?”

Chloe laughed again, clutching her stomach. “Get out of here before I need more pain medication just for the laughter.”

“’Night, Chloe. I love you.”

“’Night, Kate. I know you love me and I love you too.”

Kate got home shortly after midnight, exhaustion seeping through her the moment she opened her apartment door. Her eyes immediately fell on her black sweater and bra, which were still strewn on the living-room floor. The ones she had pulled off herself the night before.

The bed wasn’t made. The sheets were tangled and she could still see Matt lying there, the memory strong in her mind. She changed quickly into her pajamas and walked out of the room back to her couch. She curled up on its familiar comfort, shut her eyes, trying to block out the events of the past thirty-six hours, and begged for sleep.

It didn’t come and she lay exhausted, her mind refusing to quiet or slow down and think rationally. She oscillated between anxieties at not being with Chloe, to pain from not hearing from Matt. Why hadn’t he called?

She officially gave up hope at around four in the morning and went back to the hospital. Quietly she retook her place at Chloe’s bedside, assuaging at least once source of torment. At exactly eight in the morning she couldn’t take the waiting any more and called Matt’s firm. The main receptionist put her through to Matt’s office.

“Hello, Matt McKayne’s office, this is Andy.” Disappointment ricocheted through her as she realized it was not Matt himself answering.

“It’s Dr. Kate Spence, I’m looking for Mr. McKayne.”

“Mr. McKayne has returned to New York. Can I pass on a message?”

She felt her breath leave her but was incapable of taking in more air. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening, could it? Would Matt really leave? Now? After everything? After they had made love? Her mind and her heart both knew the answers to her questions.

“No message, thank you.”

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